


The Girl With No Name

by HisRedRose123



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Backstory, Canonical Character Death, Death Threats, Dubious Morality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Guilt, L is a Dick, Light Yagami Puns, Light is a Dick, Love, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, POV Original Character, POV Third Person Limited, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Room, Shinigami, Slow Burn, So Much Awkwardness, Trauma, Unresolved Sexual Tension, everyone is a dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-02-13 07:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 90,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12978741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisRedRose123/pseuds/HisRedRose123
Summary: She considered herself lucky (well, as lucky as you can be when a God-like serial killer with a raging ego problem is out for your blood). She had the one and only thing that could truly protect her from Kira's vindictive wrath:No name.[Honestly this summary is just horrendous forgive me]





	1. Prologue

She was a shadow in society. One of those people you walk past but hardly even acknowledge they're there. She had been like this since her birth.

Neglected. Abandoned. Ignored.

All up until a strange man took her in after finding her alone on the bustling streets of New York. He took her to an orphanage - one for the gifted and talented. During the years she spent there, she was educated to the extent where her intellect surpassed that of the average human being. The man claimed she'll be a great mastermind one day and saying that everyone will know her name.

But that's the irony behind it, you see. She didn't have a name.

Being deserted by her mother after she was born, she was thrown into a home for abandoned children. There, they didn't have the decency to name her either. They chose to call her 'girl' or 'brat' after leaning she'd been given no name by her birth mother. It was sickening; degrading. This home was no better than some sort of penitentiary. Both the children and the adults were cruel. Being one of the younger children (and therefore _vulnerable_ ), they beat her badly. At that time, she supposed she deserved it; she always had some kind of snarky remark in the back of her mind that was rewarded with a harsh slap across the cheek  

But, on a night when the owner passed out drunk on the floor, she saw her chance and took it. She doubt they'd miss her. Escaping through a side window, she lived for three years on the streets, adapting to her environment and learning how to survive. Sometime during those long years, the strange man found her and whisked her away from all her hardships.

At this orphanage, identities didn't matter too much. They'd dubbed her ' _Agent_ ' because - to state it simply - that's what she was. It wasn't a name per se, but it was better than nothing. She was raised there until she reached the age of sixteen. At that point, she left, bored with the American city streets and yearning to see the world. That's precisely what she did - travelling from country to country, continent to continent; just to escape reality, if only for a while.

Of course, this travelling came with a cost. She could move as freely as she liked, funded by her benefactors, under one condition: she had to complete any case assigned to her without complaint. She'd expected as much.

Naturally, she agreed to this and did whatever was asked of her. Doing her research in a dark hotel room before sending it to the whoever ran the case under the safety of her alias. She assisted in many widely known cases, never being credited for her efforts all the while - not that it fazed her. She could care less. But she always did her job, flawlessly and on time, as promised.

However, one thing she never did was involve herself in an investigation without being asked to first. That is, unless it _really_ excited her! Any other boring case just wasn't worth her time.

Japan was her current home - the Kanto region to be specific. She had recently gone back to America after being notified of a rather severe serial murder investigation that had been taking place in LA. Admittedly, although it was very much worth her time, but it was exhausting. So, after spending a few weeks working on that case and submitting her findings, she decided to take a vacation and spend some time in Asia - somewhere she scarcely ever visited due to its fluctuating weather.

One evening, she found herself painfully bored, mindlessly skipping through TV channels that failed to appeal to her. she came upon a certain news channel that sparked her interest. A sharply man dressed in a suit and tie sat behind a desk that held a card bearing the name ' _Lind. L Taylor_ '. She'd missed the first part of the broadcast but, judging from his spiteful words, he was making an accusation. The accused, she soon learned, was named _**Kira**_.

Tailor made a rather obvious point of saying that what he was doing (although she hadn't the faintest clue what this Kira was actually doing. Apparently she'd been living under a rock) was wrong and evil; ranting on for a solid two minutes, practically reciting War and Peace. She was itching to research this mysterious Kira and discover what terrible wrongdoings he'd committed. The man on the TV was boring her to death and she considered switching the channel once more. However, before she had chance to so much as touch the remote, the man collapsed onto the desk and clawed at his shirt wildly, his face contorting in pain. He died there and then.

Now, this definitely caught her interest.

Sitting there stunned, she stared intently at the screen - much like most other Japanese citizens watching the news station right now - as the man was dragged offstage by two man. Frowning, she wondered why the hell they hadn't cut the broadcast yet. Surely this was bad for publicity. Her questions were soon answered when the screen cut to a white background with a gothic letter slapped right in the centre. This was a letter which she had seen before and was very familiar with.

 _ **L**_.

L began to speak, his words coming out distorted through what was likely to be a voice scrambler, and revealed that this whole broadcast was a rather risky stunt used to catch Kira in his own trap. Believing he was killing the real L (in other words - a _threat_ ), Kira caused the man to die of a heart attack without actually having been present in the room. Unsurprisingly, she was intrigued. She thought that she absolutely had to involve herself in the case now; it would be a great shame to miss out on all the fun!

Keeping her eyes glued to the screen, she reached over to her phone and called the most recent number. After a few moments, the dial tone was replaced by a voice.

"What?"

"Hey. I need you to do something for me," she replied, inspecting her fingernails lazily.

"And what exactly would that be?" The voice asked curiously.

The other smirked. "Arrange me a meeting with L. I think we might have something interesting to discuss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prologue is terrible, but it gets the ball rolling, doesn't it?
> 
> Anyway, thanks for checking out this story. It's a revamp of my first Death Note fanfic, which I started writing on Wattpad about a year ago. Since then, my standards for writing have changed significantly, so here we are with a fresh new fanfic. 
> 
> I'll be updating regularly, but I tend to update quicker on Wattpad and Fanfiction.net. If any of you want to follow me on either of those platforms, my username is the exact same: HisRedRose123 :)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy~


	2. Chapter One

"Are you sure this is such a great idea?" The man asked again, earning a long and wearisome sigh from me. "I mean, it's the _Kira_ investigation."

We'd been having the same conversation for over fifteen minutes now. Each argument I made ended up backfiring in my face, and we'd somehow managed to do a full U-Turn to get back to this very same question.

"Your point is, Chris?" I said irritably, pinching the bridge of my nose between two fingers.

"It's suicidal." He said firmly. "Joining this task force is literally asking to be killed. You do realise that, right?"

Rolling my eyes, I groaned, stretching my arms over my head. "Stop stressing, Chris. You'll give yourself wrinkles."

Not amused by my sense of humour, Chris grumbled something unintelligible - probably cussing or damning me to an eternity in Limbo if I had to hazard a guess. Sitting up on the bed, I placed the phone to my ear and spoke in a softer tone. "Hey, I don't even know if I'm going to be accepted onto the case yet, so we shouldn't even bother arguing over it."

"You'd better be accepted." Chris declared, his voice raising. "I went through Hell and back to arrange this for you. L isn't an easy guy to track down, never mind communicate with."

I frowned. "You actually spoke to him?"

"Not directly." Chris replied with a hint of disappointment. "His caterer sorted everything out. Some guy called Watari, I think."

I hummed in understanding, making a mental note of that name. The conversation trickled off by that point and there was silence at both ends of the line. Sensing that Chris was still unenthusiastic about the whole Kira thing, I added, "Hey, if I am accepted, you have to remember that this is my decision to make - as an adult."

No response. Well, clearly reassurance wasn't going to work.

"You know, _you_ don't have to join if you're so worried about dying."

This didn't seem to work either, judging by the groan that followed. Oh look, I hurt his precious manhood.

"I'm not worried about myself, Agent. I'm worried for you. You're too headstrong; too confident. This isn't a typical murder case. You really don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, my friend." I said with a smirk, toying with a strand of my hair.

There was a pause and I could practically see Chris' eyes narrowing. "What've you done now, Agent?"

I hummed quietly, glancing towards the laptop stuffed in my bag. "Nothing. Just a little research."

The reply was instantaneous. "You've been hacking again, haven't you?"

 _Busted_.

"Well, I wouldn't call it hacking." I said in an innocent tone. "I'd say something more along the lines of _using my assets to my advantage_."

He didn't sound even remotely surprised. I'd done this far too often for it to come across as a shock.

"What was it this time? Police files? Classified government reports? The secrets of the universe?" He joked, though his tone was completely humourless.

My lips widening, I chuckled. "Maybe all three."

He sighed deeply. "This _asset_ of yours is going to land you in jail one day."

"And you'll be right there beside me." I said with a small grin before my attention was caught by the clock. "Oh, shoot, I gotta go! I'll call you afterwards and tell you how it went."

"Don't bother." He said quickly, stopping me before I could end the call. "I'll come and pick you up; it saves you walking back. Just give me a time."

I thought for a moment, judging how long this conversation would likely last and doing the math in my head. "Around half six, give or take. I doubt we'll talk for long."

"Alright, I'll see you then. Good luck, you suicidal maniac."

I scoffed, shaking my head as I laughed. "Whatever."

To be honest, I had more than enough time to get to the hotel - even if I walked with a snail's pace. I just preferred to be there early so I could make a good first impression. Punctuality is key, followed by personal presentation.

As that thought crossed my mind, I turned and eyed myself in the mirror. White blouse, plain black jeans with a black overcoat buttoned halfway. Formal enough, right? Or did it make me look like I was trying too hard? Would he be able to tell that I literally went out of my way and bought this specifically to make a good first impression? Nah, he can't be that good.

With one last look towards my dolled-up reflection, I grabbed my room key, slung my bad over my shoulder, and exited the room. Making my way downstairs and through the hotel lobby, I zipped up my jacket as I pushed open the double doors that led to the outside. The autumn air was chilly and I pulled my collar up to my chin in an attempt to block out the gusts of wind as I walked along the barren streets, shivering as I went. Heading in the direction of the address I was given, I pondered to myself. What would he be like? Would he be tall and intimidating? Or awkward and shy? And what would his appearance be?

My imagination quickly cooked up an idea and I surmised that he'd be middle aged; tall; more on the skinny side. He'd have dark eyes and dark hair with a deerstalker atop his head and a smoking pipe stuffed between his lips and-

I stopped and chuckled to myself, realising that I was basically envisioning Sherlock Holmes. Well, I suppose that wouldn't be wrong. L was essentially the modern day incarnation of the fictional detective. He was insanely intelligent from what I'd heard. Always estimating, always analysing. Some kids at St Mary's joked that instead of a brain, he had a computer chip in his head. No case has been able to stump him - not a single one! As a detective myself, he was an inspiration and I strived to be like him, although I doubt I'd ever get to the point where I'd be considered his equal in terms of mental ability. Given, I was above average intelligence, but L was like an all-seeing, all-knowing God. Very few could live up to his standards.

Only ten minutes had passed when I reached the hotel, no surprise thanks to my huge strides and active pace. I stepped through the sliding doors and made my way to the elevators nearby, shrugging off the cold and embracing the warmth of the indoors. I called for an lift and tapped my foot as I waited, taking a quick glance at my surroundings and raising an impressed brow.

It was quite a nice hotel by the looks of things, undoubtedly much more expensive than the cheap two-star ' _pathetic excuse for a hotel_ ' I'd paid for. Not to mention, L's room was on one of the highest floors, indicating that it's likely to be a suite. Lucky sod. How much money does he have in his pockets exactly?

A loud ding from my right informed me that an elevator had finally made its way back down to the ground level and I entered it. Fortunately for me, no one else got on whilst I journeyed up so I wasn't forced to awkwardly converse with a stranger. Instead, I was stuck waiting with the cliche elevator music repeating itself over and over, irritating me terribly.

Upon reaching the designated level, the elevator doors opened and I stepped out, heading to my right. Steadily, I walked down the corridor, seeing the room numbers increase one by one until I came to a halt in front of L's door. By this point, the nerves had begun to set in and I shied away, taking a few steps back.

Calm down, girl! The worst he can do is say no. It's not like he's going to laugh and slam the door in your face - unless he's an asshole, that is. Get a grip. Taking a deep breath, I composed myself and shook away all anxious thoughts. I raised my right hand to the door and knocked three times, politely waiting for a response.

"It's open. Please, let yourself in." A muffled voice said from the other side of the door, making me frown. Damn, that's rude! Don't have enough energy to answer the door, do we? At least he had the courtesy to say please.

Giving my outfit one last brush down, I hesitantly opened the door and stepped inside, my chest clenching with nerves. I felt as though I was meeting my favourite celebrity, only there'd probably be less shrill screaming and more interview-esque dialogue.

Shutting the door behind me with a light click, I turned and saw a young man ( _way_ younger than I had expected) stood by the window, gazing out over the city. My jaw dropped but I quickly caught myself, eyes widening instead. Running my eyes up and down his form, my disbelief only grew.

He was average height, slouched over with his shoulders in a hunched position - which really made me wonder if he had a bad case of scoliosis or if he just didn't give two hoots about posture. He had dark, unkept hair and was wearing a baggy, slightly greyed shirt that hung off his lithe figure. Beneath that was a pair of light blue jeans and, much to my confusion, no shoes. He looked like your typical rebellious teenager.

This was the world's greatest detective? Was this a joke?

Shaking off the initial shock, I regained my confident stance and coughed lightly to grab his attention. He turned round to face me and, impolite and unnerving as it was, I couldn't help but stare.

I don't know whether I should be more concerned about the way his spine bends or the fact that the bags under his eyes are arguably darker than the majority of black eyeshadows. What was he? An insomniac?

"Can you please leave your cell phone on the table. I find them rather distracting." He spoke, gesturing towards the table.

I blinked once or twice before coming to my senses and shrugging. "Sure."

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I made sure it was on silent mode before placing it on the table and following the detective into the next room. He placed himself on a chair - in a very uncomfortable looking position, may I add - and began preparing himself a very sugary cup of coffee. I stood there, my discomfort seeming hugely obvious, as he placed cube after cube of sugar into the mug.

 _Okay_? Well, that's an excellent way to live a long and healthy life. Maybe I should take tips.

After a few minutes of awful silence followed by an impatient sigh from yours truly, L finally glanced up and acknowledged me.

"You can sit down, you know."

I resisted the strong urge to scoff. Here I was, trying my darnedest to be polite and putting on my best goody two shoes impression. He really should considered himself lucky. It's not in my nature to be so generously humble.

I strode over to the chair opposite him and placed myself in it; sliding my coat off and draping it over the arm. Reclining back a slight tad, I gave the room a brief look over before fixating my eyes on the man sat before me. Without intending to, I began staring again, trying to convince myself that I was seeing things. This couldn't be the real L, could it? Maybe this was just a weird prank and the real L would jump up behind my chair before screaming _**boo**_ in my face. Honestly, I doubt I'd even be phased if that actually did happen. By this point, I was seriously questioning whether I'd walked into a hotel suite or a madhouse.

"Is there something on my face?" The detective asked after a few moments had passed, making me realise that I'd been caught out.

Fuck, my bad! This is the exact reason why people shouldn't allow themselves to zone out while looking at someone. It just gets so weird when they finally notice you.

Trying to feign innocence, I blinked in surprise before smiling slightly. "No. Why?" I asked, playing dumb.

"The fact you've been staring at me for the past twenty eight seconds makes me think I either have something on my face or you're assessing my appearance - which I suppose shouldn't be too surprising. According to my research, you're a fellow detective."

I blanked. Come again? _Research_?

Oh, the nerve of this guy! Before we'd even met, he'd started to get the goods on me. Unfair.

I shuffled on my seat and crossed my arms, trying my hardest not to appear fazed. "That's right."

He stared at me, almost as though he was judging me. It put me off.

"You don't like the fact I've been investigating you." He stated simply.

I felt my eye twitch. 

"What makes you think that?" I asked, trying to act calm even though I was inwardly raging.

He took a sip from his coffee. "Well, anyone with a average mental mindset would be at least mildly offended to learn they've been investigated without their knowledge and/or consent. But there's something more to it, isn't there?"

I swallowed whatever saliva was left in my dry mouth. Damn. He can read me like a book. Well, fine. If he wants to play it this way, we can play it this way.

Huffing in defeat, I looked away, slouching back into my seat. "Due to the fact that I'm a _private_ investigator like yourself, there should be no trace of me on an online database - or any accessible database for that matter."

He eyed me. "Including the database of the orphanage in which you grew up in?"

My eyes widened a fraction. Scratch that, my eyes widened a lot.

"How the hell do you know about that?!" I yelled, completely discarding the polite approach.

How far back did he research? Better yet, how did he even know I was there? I had no name for him to look up and he didn't know what I looked like beforehand. The only way he could possibly know me was if he was in touch with someone at the orphanage.

My eyes narrowed.

Oh, that sly bastard...

"You appear to have just come to a conclusion, am I correct?" He said, looking up at me as I glared icily down at him.

"You lived in that other orphanage. Your benefactors told you who I was." I rightly assumed, raising my chin defensively.

"You're only half correct. I did, in fact, live in one of the homes in England. But it wasn't my benefactors who informed me of your identity. That I researched on my own."

If I had no self control, I would've gaped. But, eager to keep my composure, I glued my mouth firmly shut.

"Before you ask how I achieved that, I'd just like you to think back to the last case you worked on in the US." He murmured to me as he opened up a laptop that was seated on the coffee table before us.

Oh, he's talking about the serial murders in LA. But how would he be aware that I worked on that case?

I thought for a few seconds before sighing at my utter idiocy

"You've got to be kidding me." I murmured, shaking my head in disbelief. "You were the head of that case, weren't you?"

I was never informed of the other people who were working on that case. In fact, I was asked by the orphanage to work secretly, on my own, and hand in my research as an anonymous tip (to be fair, I usually worked behind the scenes on most cases anyways and only ever acted upfront with explicit permission from whoever was leading the investigation). Reluctantly, I did as they asked but I never learned who the head of that case was. Back then, I didn't really care. As long as I could do my job, whoever was leading the investigation could remain as a mystery to me, by all means.

Screw those guys! They knew he was leading it the whole time. They could've thought to at least tell me; I wouldn't be feeling so embarrassed now.

"Correct. I see your deductive skills really are as impressive as they say. Your reputation truly does precede you." He said as he glanced down at his computer screen, something that usually would've my chest swell with pride but right now, all I could feel was my brow ticking and the veins in my neck popping out one by one. "I'm sure that you are still confused as to how I found you from that specific circumstance, but I'll get to that. By the way, I greatly appreciate the sources you sent in. They were a considerate help."

I withheld the urge to roll my eyes.

"You're welcome. But even so, how did you figure out that was me? I remained anonymous, if I remember rightly." I argued, bewilderment still clouding my features.

"And the fact you remained anonymous gave me even more of a reason to investigate you. You see, most anonymous tips do little to nothing to help the case at hand, mainly being some sort of hoax or a false piece of information. But your tip helped the investigation to progress greatly. You noticed a significant detail that even I missed." He told me, watching my reaction as he picked the coffee cup back up from the table, sipping loudly from it.

Really? Well, that's going on my mental wall of achievement. Honestly, I would be proud if I wasn't so peeved.

"Because of that fact, I gained an interest in you. It took me a while but with help from my connections, I traced you back to the St Mary's orphanage in New York - where you lived from the age of eleven to sixteen before leaving with another individual. I asked if I could have your files and they gave it to me. I learnt some very interesting information from that." He continued, seemingly ignorant to my rapidly reddening face.

This guy was breaking every single boundary right now. I was told by my benefactors that I could never be found by anyone. _Period_. Clearly that was a lie.

"So, you have information on me." I said quietly, more to myself than him. "Alright. Fair dues. So what?"

He placed his coffee cup back down on the table and faced me, his face suddenly much more serious than before.

"I want your help on this case." He replied, sending a tidal wave of _what the fuck_ flowing through me.

That was fast. And unexpected.

"Woah, hang on! We haven't even discussed the terms yet and already you've decided you want me on the case?" I echoed, making sure I didn't mishear him, my confusion growing.

"Yes." He answered bluntly, not giving me the blessing of an explanation like I wanted.

Seriously, was I imagining things? I'd barely been in the room a half hour. We hadn't discussed anything of importance and he still wanted me to join this investigation. Logically, that makes no sense. Ugh. My mind refused to process the last several minutes I had spent in this room. Everything was so damn bewildering. I'd definitely walked into a madhouse.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I believe that you are immune."

At that moment, I frowned and sat up a little straighter, a very puzzled expression plastered on my face. "Okay, no offence, but what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He slumped back over to his computer and gestured for me to come over to him. I did so and, lo and behold, my private documents were presented before me; ugly mugshot and all. I was going to have a very serious talk with the orphanage when I'm finished with this case, that I swear. They had no absolutely right to divulge my personal information to strangers - especially without my consent.

"From what your records told me, it appears as though you have been given no birth name. Am I wrong?"

I shook my head in the negative to answer his question and he carried on. "Kira needs a face to kill. We know that much from the news broadcast in which Lind L Tailor was killed. However, further research has led me to believe that he also requires a name to kill his victims. One of those, you do not have, therefore he cannot kill you. It's impossible."

Well, would you look at that? My luck is beginning to turn! Although, if I can't be killed, then that means--

"So what you're saying is you're going to use me as bait?" I asked with a cock of my head, feeling slightly ticked off.

He shook his head. "Not necessarily. You'd be still treated as a member of the task force but if required, you may be used more upfront. The rest of us cannot do this because, from my estimates, there's still a high 85% chance we'd be killed - and that's at a minimum."

Sighing, I placed my thumb and forefinger on the bridge of my nose and thought deeply about the circumstances.

If I took on this case, I'd be putting myself in physical danger. Whether I can't be killed by this Kira or not, I can still be killed as easily as any other human being if the situation came to it. And if I refused... Well, nothing would happen, I suppose. I wouldn't be in Kira's line of crossfire, and life would go on as it always did. Slowly. _Boringly_. Always repeating the same old thing. Get given a case, work on it, save the day and move on.

I decided that I didn't want that.

"Alright. I accept." I said, looking back up and nodding curtly.

He side glanced over to me, seemingly pleased by my acceptance, before getting back up to his feet and heading over to the window again.

"Good. The meetings will be held here unless I change location, which I will be doing regularly." He explained.

I nodded, pursing my lips. "Understandable."

He continued. "I will contact you in a few days with the time of when you will meet the task force and can officially begin work on this case. I assume you've already began conducting your own research."

I nodded slowly. "Yes, but I doubt I've gotten much further than you. I had limited sources and therefore-"

"Do these 'limited' sources include the Japanese police force's documents on this case?" He cut me off rudely.

Instead of pulling my typical aghast expression like I would've five minutes ago, I simply raised my eyebrows in question. To be honest, I partly expecting him to know I hacked into the files and stole the documents. The rumour is true - L knows everything.

"St Mary's orphanage did commend you on your exceptional hacking skills." He clarified, eyes lighting up as he watched my expression darken.

I sighed. What ever happened to confidentiality?

Despite the accuracy in his response, I chose to argue, a rather obvious fake smile tugging at my lips. "Just because I hack doesn't necessarily mean I hacked into the police's classified documents, now does it? That would be illegal."

He knew I was toying with him. Let's face it, I was up against the human lie detector here. I'd been in the room with him for less than an hour and already he'd disclosed half of my life story. What was the point of lying?

"That may be, but do you actually care for the law? From what I read, I learned that you once lived on the streets. I can imagine that's a hard life. You probably had to make hasty decisions. Perhaps decisions you now regret?"

My mind came to a screeching halt as I processed what I had just heard. Did he seriously just use that card against me? Now that was plain cruel. Collecting myself before I actually lashed out and hurt somebody, I took deep, steady breaths and made eye contact.

"I'm going to request that you don't bring that up again. _Please_. I'm trying very hard to forget what I did back then. But to answer your question - no, I don't really care for the law system, despite my work as a detective. I'll do whatever it takes to solve a case, including breaking the law if it benefits me. So yes, you're right. I did hack into the files and yes, I downloaded them onto my computer to analyse. So, now what? Are you going to arrest me?" I spat sharply, my smile long gone.

L shook his head as he gazed over the city landscape. "No, I won't arrest you. I too have done things like that in the past."

"What? Seriously? You're saying that you have broken the law to complete a case?"

"I try not to but, on the odd occasion, yes. If the circumstance becomes too drastic, I see no reason why I should be restricted by the law." L replied. "Though I doubt my experience in hacking security systems will be as in depth as yours."

Alright then. He's a fellow hacker. This was fine by me. I was starting to wonder how it's possible for someone to be that _good_. I mean, come on, he has intelligence; good morals; general civility; semi-decent looks. He's literally the definition of a perfect human (beside the fact that he's as blunt as a butter knife and has no regard for privacy).

Impressed by this revelation, I nodded slowly and lowered my eyes to faced the floor, our conversation hitting a somewhat dead end. Do I bring up a new topic or does he?

"May I ask you a question?" He spoke softly, answering my own question for me.

My gaze snapped back up and, after a brief pause, I shrugged both shoulders.

"Sure." I said while nodding, looking at his eyes through the reflection of the window. "Go ahead."

His gaze never leaving mine, he asked. "Why do you wish to work on this case? Even if you are protected from Kira, there is still a high chance you could be killed - or those closest to you could be killed. I hear you have a friend not much older than myself, the individual you left St Mary's with. Is this case worth his life?"

Realisation hitting me like a brick wall, I hesitantly opened my mouth to respond but nothing but empty air came out. Was this case really worth Chris' life? Honestly, was it? A short burst of sheer excitement in exchange for my closest companion? He didn't even want to join this case.

Thinking hard on my reply, I chose my words carefully.

"Both he and I are detectives." I began to explain, referring to Chris as I spoke. "We know our jobs are dangerous but we still take the risk. In all honesty, any career choice has some sort of hazard to it, some are just more dangerous than others. We both accepted the fact that there's a possibility we could be killed by doing what we do and, to be truthful, we don't care. I love this line of work and so does he."

L stared at me, his dark eyes reflecting off the glass and blending into the city skyline. I waited for his reply - which would probably be some sort of overly logical bullshit - but it never came. He placed his thumb to rest on his lower lip and lowered his head in thought. Feeling mildly uncomfortable, I decided to speak up.

"I don't want to sound rude but it's getting kinda late and my friend is probably having a panic attack somewhere because I'm still not back yet." I chuckled as I scratched the back of my head awkwardly.

He turned around to stare at me some more before speaking again. "Yes, you're free to go. Just be aware that I'll be calling you sometime this week with the place and time of the next meeting with the task force."

Frowning, I was about to mention that he doesn't have my phone number but then I realised those bastards back home probably gave it to him. Seriously, I was going to have an intense conversation with that lot. _Very_ intense. Many choice words will be spoken and threats of abandonment will most likely be made.

Nodding my head in the affirmative, I grinned and began to lead myself out, picking up my cell along the way. Just as I opened the door, L's voice stopped me.

"By the way, what are we to call you?" He inquired, looking over to me as he spoke. "I'm sure we'll all find it difficult to converse if we're unsure of how to refer to you."

Tilting my head to look back at him, I chuckled inwardly. I was far too used to saying this line.

"You can just call me what everyone else calls me - Agent." I replied with a smile, a vague sense of pride bubbling up inside me.

He threw me a bemused look but nodded nonetheless. I bowed my head as a sign of departure and briskly walked out of the room, shutting the door behind me. Letting out a long sigh of relief, I slumped myself against the hotel wall and calmed my racing heart. Well, I'm glad that ride was over!

That was the most intense meeting I've ever had in my life. Despite his odd appearance and whimsical behaviour, L's actually quite scary. Throughout the whole thing, his eyes kept looking at me - not in the sense that he was maintaining eye contact, but as though I was some kind of puzzle meant to be figured out. I've never met anyone so cryptic before. I don't know if I should feel intimidated or intrigued. Perhaps both?

Pulling myself back to my feet, I took one last look at L's room before heading back in the direction of the elevators and where I knew Chris would be waiting for me outside. As I stepped back out of the hotel, I noticed how dark it had gotten and wondered just how long L and I actually spoke for.

A loud car horn snapped me back to my thoughts and my head whipped towards the source of the noise - a grey Lexus with a very angry looking blonde inside. Trying not to laugh at his expression, I walked over to the vehicle and flashed Chris a smile.

"That was really fucking quick!" He cried as I slid into the seat beside him, buckling my seatbelt. "Half six, you said."

Rolling my eyes, I smirked. "Shut your blabbering mouth for a minute; I got good news!"

"What?" He said irritably after being interrupted.

Smiling brightly to myself, I turned to face him. "I'm on the case!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who doesn't know, the LA BB Murders are part of a side story in Death Note known as Another Note. I won't spoil anything but it's an amazing read and I really recommend it. Also yes, it's mentioned briefly in the anime series; it's the case in which Naomi Misora worked under L.


	3. Chapter Two

Two whole days had passed when I received a text from an unknown number, giving me the address of another hotel - different from the last one I'd visited - and a time.

_Today, 10:00_

_Please make sure to be on time._

Staring at it through half lidded eyes, I'd barely comprehended the message when I read it. I was still practically asleep. He'd texted me at eight in the morning. At that point, I still had my head buried in the pillow, drool and all. Does he really expect me to be up and at it by that time? _Ha_. Unlikely.

When I finally came to and realised this message had been sent by my new detective buddy, I scrambled out of bed and quickly began flinging clothes out of my wardrobe, searching for something suitable. I'd be meeting new people today, meaning I'd have to pin myself up for yet another first impression. I'll admit, first impressions were rather trivial in the grand scheme of things, but I worried about what I looked like regardless. I'm only human.

After a good few minutes of rummaging, I began to question why my fashion sense was so radical. God, I really needed to grow out of my edgy teenage phase, and fast!

With time against me and my patience wearing dangerously thin, I decided that another black pair of jeans and a navy blouse would do for today. I need to go shopping and get myself some more practical clothing. There's no way I'm walking into Kira headquarters wearing a low cut shirt and ripped shorts. Not a chance.

Hauling ass to the bathroom, I plonked my clothes down on the bed as I passed it and picked up my phone. Turning on the light as I entered the bathroom, my first instinct was to look in the mirror and assess the night's damage. Let's see... Blemished face. Dead fish eyes. Bedhead. Nope, that won't do.

Phone back in hand, I dialled Chris and placed my phone one the side by the sink, putting it on speaker mode. The man in question picked up after a few dial tones and began chortling almost instantly. "Jesus Christ. You're up early for a change. What happened? Armageddon?"

"No." I grumbled, angrily pulling through my tangled hair with a brush. "I'm meeting the task force today at ten."

Chris made a surprised sound. "Really? He messaged you?"

"Yeah, about an hour ago." I answered simply.

There was a brief pause until Chris spoke again. "What's his number?"

I guffawed, likely shocking my associate with the strange sound.

"Oh yeah, like it'd be that easy, Chris!" I mocked, shaking my head. "It's an unknown number. I haven't tried to find out, but it's probably also untraceable. L's far from an idiot and I doubt he trusts me yet; he wouldn't just hand me his number on a silver platter. In fact, I wouldn't put it past him to have more than one phone number."

"Hey, it doesn't hurt to ask." Chris argued, his voice taking on a defensive tone. "I just wanted to know in case I ever have to call him up for you. Seriously, do you know how many contacts I went through to find this guy?"

"I'm sure you exercised the entire phonebook, Chris. I appreciate your efforts." I muttered halfheartedly, smearing a layer of creamy foundation across my ashen face. This response didn't seem to please Chris and he stubbornly kept his silence.

"What?" I asked, perturbed by his refusal to speak.

"I'm waiting."

Holding back a sigh, I perked up and smiled to myself in the mirror as though Chris could actually see me.

"Thank you, sweetie. You're the best detective ever and I love you more than the Die Hard movies." I said in a singsong voice, pursing my lips out as I applied a fruity lip balm to cover the cracks.

"Please, I already know I'm the best detective ever. You don't need to tell me that." He replied with a haughty scoff. "Also, stop using that voice. It doesn't suit you; kinda makes me cringe. Anyways, you need a lift?"

I considered it for a moment, seeing as the new hotel was considerably further than the last one, but decided against it. I needed the exercise, and Chris always chose to listen to crappy sixties songs in the car; they irritated me. I don't want to meet the task force with a huge scowl on my face. That expression doesn't say ' _friendly work associate_ '. That says ' _angry hormonal teen with a motive to kill_ '. I don't want to scar them by showing my true colours.

Not yet, anyway.

"Thanks, but I'll manage. If I get a move on, I can walk it and still be there on time." I told him, glancing towards the clock. "On that note, I'm gonna hang up now. Standby soldier."

"Hey!" Chris snapped before I could hang up the call. "Don't forget to chat me up today. Remember that I want on to this task force as well."

"Don't worry, I won't forget. If you're lucky, I might ask L if you can attend today's meeting. I've already given a bravado about your dedication to work as it is and besides, he has dirt on you."

"Okay, that's fine." There was a pause. "Wait, _what_?!"

Like I'd just told the greatest punchline in all history, I began to chuckle at the growing concern in Chris' voice. If I was a decent human being, I would've told him that I was in the same boat and he had nothing to worry about.

Sadly for him, I was not a decent human being.

"Well, I'll see you later!" I said with a grin, abruptly ending the call and cutting off Chris' loud, unintelligible blabber.

Shoving my phone into my pocket, I smirked at the thought of Chris's ceaseless panic at being snooped on behind his back. He hated invasions of privacy, more so than I, so this was probably a personal Hell for him. I'm such a sadist.

Giving myself one last look over in the mirror, I decided I was decent and began to haul ass once more.

 

* * *

 

I stood in front of L's room door once again, hesitant to go in. Déjà vu much.

Questions ran through my head, ones that I couldn't answer myself. What if they don't like me? What if I embarrass myself? What if I don't live up to their expectation? I mean, I'm an agent from the States and we're often glamourised as being these superhuman geniuses who can solve any crime without even breaking a sweat (yeah, we have _Mission Impossible_ to thank for that). I definitely do not live up to that ludicrous image; not even remotely close. From past experiences, I'm well aware that I come across as being incapable of having such a gnarly career, mainly because of how many times I've been told how young I look or how unprofessional my demeanour is. Yeah, not exactly the most flattering statements to hear when you're trying to do a serious job.

The more I pondered on these petty thoughts (and they _were_ petty), the more the nerves ate away at me. Eventually, I found myself curled up in a ball on the floor like a child. I'd never been to school but I'm pretty sure this is what sitting outside the Principal's office felt like.

With a grunt, I loudly bashed my head against the wall seveal times, emitting a loud bang that likely carried into the next room - not that I took any notice at the time. The sharp pain that resonated around my cranium was enough to shake off my initial nerves and convince me to get a hold of myself.

I could do this. L, the head of the investigation, had already welcomed me onto the case. I doubt anyone would question his judgement - and if they did, they were clearly stupid. The other members shouldn't care who I was or where I was from. We're all here to do one thing and that's to catch Kira. That's all there is - and all there ever will be - to it.

A newfound confidence flooding through me, I pushed myself to my feet and straightened out my clothes, my face brightening. Looking towards the hotel door I'd been curled up against, I extended my hand to knock politely on the door. Before I could however, the door was opened and a dark haired man poked his head out, eyeing me curiously.

"Are you alright out here, Miss? We heard banging." The man asked, face full of concern.

Ah. My bad.

Laughing to ease the awkward tension, I replied, "Yeah, I'm fine. I just tripped."

I _tripped_? Really, that's the best I could think of? Even I don't believe that lie and I'm the one who told it.

"Oh. Alright then." He said cheerily as a smile crossed his features, becoming much more buoyant as he spoke. "Say, aren't you the girl who's supposed to be joining the task force today? Because if you are-"

Before he could finish, the guy - whose name I was yet to learn - was abruptly cut off as a middle aged man grabbed the other's shoulder and whispered (not so quietly) into his ear.

"Quiet, Matsuda! You don't know this woman, you can't be telling just anyone about the investigation."

Not wanting the situation to escalate (and also partly because I was offended at already being distrusted), I coughed loudly, disrupting the pair.

"I don't mean to interrupt but you don't have to worry about me. I am, in fact, the new member of the task force." I told them, watching relief flood their features. "Actually, I was just about to knock on the door before I tripped and this lovely gentleman came to check on me.

I flashed a sweet smile towards the younger of the two who I could now assume was called Matsuda - from what I heard. Matsuda visibly blushed and went a little dreamy-eyed before forcing himself back to reality. Holding back a chuckle, I looked back towards the older man.

"So," I drawled, pursing my lips. "Am I going to be allowed in?"

I motioned to the room and the pair exchanged looks. From the way their faces hardened, I could tell they were in agreement. Looking me over one more time, the pair stepped back into the room and allowed entry. Nodding my head as a sign of thanks, I followed them inside the familiar suite and through to the adjoining room. My eyes then took in the scene before me:

There were seven figures in the room in total, myself excluded. All were grown men - which immediately put me on guard. As soon as I entered, all eyes in the room turned to face my form and stared at me as though I was an unexploded bomb. Trying not to appear put off, I smiled brightly and bowed as a sigh of greeting.

"Hello everyone! I apologise for being late. I got held up." I told the group as I straightened myself, nervously running a hand through the ends my hair.

"Oh, we know. We heard the banging." A familiar voice said snidely, earning a nasty look from me.

As I stared, I could feel the corner of my eye twitch but I refused to snap at him. What an ass.

"Funny story, actually. I tripped, you see." I lied, chuckling bitterly at my own false story.

The detective didn't look up at me as he took a good sip of the coffee beside him before placing it back down and heaping cubes of sugar into it, making the liquid appear somewhat thick and lumpy. I shook my head as I watched him go about flavouring his beverage to his taste. Now, I have nothing against people with a sweet tooth but this was ridiculous. For being the worlds greatest detective (aka one of the most intelligent people on the planet), you'd think he'd be a little more concerned about his health.

"You tripped six times?" He replied, raising his brows.

I narrowed my eyes, seething. Snarky son of a bitch, aren't we?

Trying to keep my anger in check, I hummed as a response - which wasn't really a yes or a no - and awkwardly stood in the middle of the room as the men continued to stare at this odd interaction between the detective and I. Before said detective could spout out another snide comment, the door to the room opened and an elderly man stepped in, carrying a box.

I frowned slightly as I took in the man's features. Something about him seemed so distinctly familiar. I just couldn't put my finger on it. Before my trail of thought could wander too far, L spoke up, grasping my attention.

"Right. Well, I suppose now is as greater time as any to introduce you all. Agent, this is Shuichi Aizawa, Kanzo Mogi, Hideki Ide, Hirokazu Ukita, you've already acquainted yourself with Touta Matsuda, and that is Soichiro Yagami - the chief of police." He said as he gestured to each of the task force members individually.

Matsuda threw me a childish wave, making me grin. The others just nodded their heads as a greeting, to which I returned.

"Oh, and that is Watari. My assistant." L continued, pointing at the male who had entered the room previously. The old man smiled at me, making him appear even more familiar to me.

Trying my darnedest not to zone out and go off into detective mode in an attempt to recall where I know this man, I smiled back.

"A pleasure." I murmured lightly as I took a seat besides Matsuda, whom I seemed the most relaxed with out of everyone here. Besides, he appeared to be the closest to my age anyway (excluding L).

"So, is Agent your real name?" Matsuda asked as I settled myself next to him. "It's a bit strange, if you don't mind me saying."

"Matsuda!" Yagami scolded, his tone sounding mildly appalled.

The man next to me visibly flinched before sighing, looking away. "Sorry, sir."

Not being able to restrain myself, I laughed, covering my mouth to muffle it. "No, it's alright. I get asked that a lot. And to answer your question - no, it isn't. I don't have a name."

All five officers looked at me wildly.

"You mean you don't have a name at all?" Aizawa asked, clearly shocked. Wordlessly, I shook my head. If it was possible, their eyes grew wider.

"So, you're basically saying that Kira can't kill you?" Ukita inquired, asking the key question, to which I nodded my head.

"I'm not willing to test the theory but it does seem that way." I clarified, watching as the task force members exchanged looks of amazement.

" _Woah_!" Matsuda said breathlessly as he budged closer to where I sat, a huge excitable grin on his face. "Kira can't even touch you. That's incredible! You're so lucky."

L, now apparently tired of our small talk, stood up and stepped over to the small box Watari, who handed him a handful of police badges. Oh, so will these be the new aliases?

I watched as he handed them out to their corresponding owner and each man pulled an amusing expression of bewilderment. Curious, I looked over to Matsuda's badge and saw the name printed on there didn't belong to him. Alright, so they were the new alias' then. This'll be entertaining to watch. I doubt these men have ever had to take on an alias before.

"Our names and ranks are false." Yagami said, stating the obvious.

"Why did you give us fake IDs?" Matsuda questioned, equally confused.

"As you all know, Kira requires a name and a face to kill." L informed them as he took a loud slurp of his tea. "We will confront him with that premise in mind and I think it should be obvious why."

"Yes, but of all people, the police shouldn't use fake IDs." Ukita argued, making a compelling - yet irrelevant - argument.

"Well, it's either this or plastic surgery. Your choice." I muttered with a small chuckle, more to myself than anyone.

L looked over to me, a ghost of a smile playing on his pale features. Oh so the detective does have a sense of humour. Pleased by this revelation, I smirked back at him. Aw, look, we're bonding. How bitterly sweet.

"Enough." Yagami said chidingly to his subordinates. "What choice do we really have, given the capabilities of our enemy? As long as you're working on this case, I think we're going to need all the protection one can get. It would be foolish not to use them."

I honestly felt like clapping for the chief. At least someone had common sense in here. The others in the room seemed to agree with me, judging by the quiet murmurs and nodding of heads.

"Remember, anytime you're in a situation where you have to give out your name to a stranger, make sure to use the name from your fake ID. Understood?" L asked as he took yet another sip from his coffee, earning himself a simultaneous ' _yes_ ' from the officers. "However, do not take this lightly. Only show your ID to members of the public when it is absolutely necessary."

Once again, the group nodded, inspecting their badges more closely whilst L continued speaking. "And on that note, be careful not to take them out in the presence of other police officers. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that that would cause problems for us."

As the group conversed amongst themselves, I sat back in my seat, feeling a bit left out of this little pep talk. I obviously didn't require an ID because of the fact I wasn't a police officer. It's highly unlikely that a stranger would need to ask my name or, in an even more unlikely scenario, need to see a form of identification. Besides, even if that was the case, I brought plenty of fake ID cards that go under the name of the alias that I use in the States - Katherine Turner. From my passport to my driver's licence, I have it all written under that name.

My attention was diverted from my thoughts once again as Watari opened the small box he had carried in with him. Straightening myself up, I leaned forward keenly, my interest peaking. Upon seeing what was in the box, I narrowed my eyes, puzzled.

He wants us to wear... _Belts_? That's new.

We all stood, stepping over to see the notably masculine accessories in more detail. Watari continued to speak and explained the mechanics of the belt as we listened. "Each one has a transmitter hidden in the buckle. This will allow Ryuzaki to monitor your whereabouts. If you don't mind, I'd like to request that you wear these at all times."

My mind came to screeching halt and I frowned. Hold the phone. Who's Ryuzaki?

After a brief moment of thinking and glancing around for any helpful clarification, L caught my eye and gestured towards himself. From there, I put two and two together. Ah, Ryuzaki is L's alias! That would've been good to know earlier. Thanks a bunch, guys.

"And when you press the buckle twice like this,” Continued Watari as he demonstrated the procedure before pulling out his ringing cellphone. "My cellphone will ring, displaying your name and I'll call you back immediately, but you won't see my number displayed."

That's actually really smart! I wish my orphanage had the funding to make that. Unfortunately for us, we're practically broke because of the amount of orphaned Americans that we take in from across the States. Personally, I'd take the super belts over a bunch of whiny brats.

"In the morning, all of you - excluding Agent, of course - will go to the police station as usual. Later on in the day, we'll use this method to confirm the name of Ryuzaki's hotel and room number. Please use this for emergencies as well." Watari concluded as he handed out all the accessories.

I was passed a belt and slipped it on, thanking whatever Gods there were that I wore my jeans today; my other trouser's don't have belt loops. That would've been a tad embarrassing.

"No way! This is so cool. I feel like I'm some sort of secret agent going after Kira!" Matsuda yelled excitably as he hoisted on his belt, earning yet another scolding by his superior for being childish.

My eyes flickered over to him as he sighed out his apologies and looked down towards the floor. Poor thing. He was really having a tough time, wasn't he?

The more I listened to Matsuda, the more I realised that he was giving me serious Chis vibes. Really, he reminded me of Chris when I'd first met him at the tender age of seventeen - the time when he kept stalking me like the clingy grown man-baby he was. Even though he was undeniably a creeper, he was my best friend. Kind of like a big brother!

My eyes suddenly widened at my realisation.

Oh, crud. I still need to get him on the case, don't I? I can't believe I actually forgot about him (and the award for Most Caring Friend goes to yours truly).

 

* * *

 

After a few mere minutes of discussion with L and about three pre-rehearsed persuasive lines later, my main man was on the case. It didn't take long. Let's face the facts - literally everyone is scared to go up against Kira so we need all the help we can get on this case, especially with brains like Matsuda's (no offence to him. He's sweet but he certainly wasn't the brightest). With permission, I slipped away from the group for one minute and went into the other room, calling Chris on my phone and waiting for him to pick up.

"Pushover hotline, where all doormats gather to be walked upon. How may I help you today?" Answered Chris in a tone so serious, it made me snort. I bet he'd been practicing that all day.

"Well, you can help me by getting your fine ass over here. You're on the case, pushover." I told him with the biggest smile on my face, eager to hear his reaction.

However, the reaction I got was one that I wasn't really expecting. There was a long, long pause, accompanied by heavy breathing. For a minute, I actually thought he had died. That is, until the sound of loud and heavy movement flooded through the receiver, followed by Chris breathless voice, "I'll be there in under twenty minutes!"

"Cool. Try not to crash, okay?" I joked, chuckling to myself, only then realising that he'd already hung up the phone in his excitement. Rolling my eyes, I headed through to the next room and rejoined the conversation.

Barely fifteen minutes had passed before a knock was heard on the hotel door. Giddiness rushing through me, I looked over as Watari answered it and allowed a figure to step inside. Lo and behold, there stood Chris. His short bangs of blonde hung gently around his face as he turned to look at me, piercing green eyes finding my own.

"Hello stranger." I drawled, smiling smugly at his reaction.

"Hey." He replied, looking around the room and its inhabitants with scarcely concealed awe.

I then realised there were many pairs of baffled eyes upon us, likely wanting an explanation for this strange man's sudden appearance. Spinning in my seat, I brightened my expression and gestured towards Chris. "Everyone, this is Christian Doyle. He's my assistant and good friend who has agreed to help on this case. Chris, this is everyone."

He bowed politely to them, much like I did, before he began to introduce himself 101. I sat back and watched contentedly, listening to Matsuda excitably rant on to my friend about how cool it must be to work as an agent and hearing my friend's equally enthusiastic replies. Looks like those two will be the best of friends - as I had anticipated. I sighed happily.

This was going to be one hell of an investigation.


	4. Chapter Three

Barely three weeks had passed since I first joined the task force. Between then and now, so much had happened. Chris and I had gradually grown more comfortable with the members of the task force - and vice versa. Not long after first being introduced, we'd all become good acquaintances (I wouldn't exactly say friends. After all, it's kinda hard to bond with someone over a serial murder investigation).

Sometimes we went out for drinks after L dismissed us for the day, making small talk and chatting idly about our different lives in an attempt to get to know each other better. Out of all of them, Matsuda was undoubtedly my favourite - just like I'd predicted. He was sweeter than sugar and had a surprising sense of humour for a police officer. At first glance, he was a shy goody-toe-shoes whose primary objective was to live up to his superiors' standards. But after a few sips of alcohol had successfully loosened his tongue, he was providing hilarious banter and cracking semi-offensive jokes.

On the odd occasion, I could even find myself sharing some quality time with the Chief, Soichiro Yagami. He didn't come out with us very often, which was understandable - he had a family to get back to and he was determined to spend as much time with them as possible in the current circumstance. Nonetheless, as little as I saw him, the few conversations I shared with him were quite refreshing.

I couldn’t help but wonder how much his wife and children actually saw of him. The Kira case was extremely demanding and we all put in a hell of a lot of hours. I didn't mind, of course. I had no place better to be and no one to come home to, so it wasn't exactly an issue when I stumbled back to my hotel room - either drunk or weary with exhaustion - and slept like the dead until the next morning. The same applies to Chris. But out of the five police officers who worked alongside us, only one was unmarried and that was Matsuda. It must be tough to find the balance between work, family and something of a social life - but they all managed to balance it perfectly. Personally, I thought they all deserved a lot more credit then they received, and I reiterated my opinion by buying the rounds every once in a while. Those nights were always the best.

However, like with all great things, it had to come to an end. This brief period of normalcy was cut short when the news came in from the US:

Twelve FBI agents were found dead in the Kanto region of Japan, all of whom died on the exact same day in the exact same way.

Cause of death: Kira, _obviously_.

Who'd have thought it, huh?

According to forensics, all twelve men were in prime health at the time and there was no real reason for a heart attack to have occurred. Furthermore, over half of them had no history of heart conditions or diseases that were prone to cause heart attacks within their immediate family. Logically, it made no sense for them to die in the way they did, meaning that the only person we could point fingers at was everyone's favourite serial killer.

Naturally, as soon as L caught wind of what occurred, he jumped straight into investigating, ergo we looked into it also. We focused on one specific agent - Raye Penber - who had been the first of the twelve to die. L claimed that starting from the beginning was our best option to find any hints eluding to Kira so that's exactly what we did. He'd requested the security footage from Shinjuku station - the last location Raye Penber visited - to review and see if there was anything sketchy going on around that time.

Seventeen hours later, we still hadn't come to any conclusions and all the task force members were on the verge of death (figuratively).

"This is torture." Chris said in a strained voice as he craned his neck, the skin under his eyes appearing stretched and slighty bruised. "It's killing me. Actually killing me."

"You know - fun fact - everyone is dying from the moment they are born." I stated, raising a pointed finger as to exemplify my fact.

Chris looked over at me and frowned, too tired to laugh along with my poor attempt at humour. "And how is that a _fun fact_ exactly?"

I smirked, shrugging, before turning my attention back to the three blurry televisions before me. My eyes were probably resembling a dead fish's by now. If staring at a bunch of TVs in a dark room isn't bad for your eyesight, then I don't know what is. I'll probably be needing glasses by the time we've finished here.

A loud slurp from my right tore my mesmerised gaze from the three screens and made me glance over, at which point I saw L happily indulging on an ice cream cone, ignorant to the envious faces surrounding him. I shook my head. Lucky prick. Considering the fact I hadn't eaten in over half a day and the only thing I'd drunk was tap water and cold coffee, I was beyond ravenous and would just about kill for an ice cream right now.

Suddenly, L spoke up, tearing me from my borderline homicidal thoughts. "Aizawa, can we see the following scenes again: Raye Penber passing the ticket gate on his way in, boarding the train and the part where he dies on the platform."

A collective groan could be heard across the room, followed by some quiet sighs and rage-filled mutters. Reluctantly, Aizawa did as asked, sorting through the stack of tapes on the table with Matsuda assisting him.

"God, _again_?" I groaned, restraining the urge to slam my head against the table. "Ryuzaki, we've seen this clip for about the seventieth time. Are you sure you haven't got it memorised by now?" I said sourly, my mockery doing nothing to phase the detective.

"If I didn't think that watching these tapes would be helpful, then I wouldn't be watching them. I'm almost certain there's something here. Something we're missing. We're just not looking close enough."

I rolled my eyes at his blatant optimism but chose not to argue. It's not like we could be doing anything better right now; sorting through records of deceased criminals could only get you so far. As painfully tedious as this was, reviewing the tapes was the greatest chance we had right now.

Rubbing the sleep out of the corner of my eyelids, I forced my attention back to the television as the first tape was pushed into the video slot and we watched as the agent passed through the turnstiles (yet again). We'd been through this so many times that I could actually recite the day's events as though it was a goddamn prayer. At 3:11PM, Raye Penber walks through the west entrance of the building before boarding a train on the Yamanote line. At the end of the next hour, he arrives back at Shinjuku station and exits the train before dying on the platform.

There you have it - the dramatic end to a Shakespearean tragedy. Honestly, I would've felt bad for the poor guy, but I'd watched him collapse on that platform so many times now that I'd become desensitised. In fact, the morbid part of me actually kind of looked forward to his death - since it was the most interesting part of the tape to watch.

Christ, I had some serious issues.

"Doesn't anyone else think it's strange?" L mused, his words coming out as a murmur, barely audible above the sound of static that emitted from the television.

Everyone exchanged confused glances, not seeing what L was referring to. That being said, L wasn't being the most helpful. Saying that _it's strange_  is way too vague and could mean absolutely anything without proper context. However, seeing as L refused to elaborate, Yagami took one for the team and asked the question nagging everyone's brain. "I'm sorry, what do you think is strange?"

L turned and looked at us all blankly as if we'd missed the most obvious thing in the world. "We know that Raye Penber got on the train and then an hour and a half later, he got off and died on the platform but the Yamanote line only takes an hour to complete it circuit."

I pursed my lips in thought, contemplating that statement. I wouldn't lie, it was a pretty good point. The only people who stay on public transport for the full journey are the dozy daydreamers/heavy sleepers who miss their stop, or the *Rachel Watson kind of people - who ride public transport for the fun of it. Raye Penber didn't seem like either of those people.

Without giving us time to process his previous statement through our barbecued brains, L quickly added, "More importantly, there's the envelope."

"What envelope?" Aizawa asked almost instantly, his tired voice showing how fed up he was with this whole business. I couldn't blame him; I felt the same.

In response, L held up the remote and pointed it towards the TV, pressing down on the pause button just as Raye Penber was approaching the turnstiles. "He's holding what appears to be an envelope when he passes through the ticket gate."

Forcing my eyes to focus on the burry screen, I finally made out what was a small package under Penber's arm. I frowned slightly, sending a dubious look in the detective's direction. Does L have super sonic vision as well as super intelligence because even I couldn't see that and I have extremely good eyesight.

Appearing just as gobsmacked as the rest of the group, the formerly grumpy police officer exclaimed, "You're right! I can't believe you actually caught that. Unbelievable." He muttered the last part but everyone still heard - and everyone agreed.

"Well, I don't see an envelope on this list of his personal effects." Yagami stated as he shuffled through the papers in his hand.

"Yeah, and in the footage right before his death, the envelope's gone." Aizawa added, fast forwarding the tape to his described moment.

"Meaning he left it on the train." I identified, allowing a small smile to form on my lips as my brain began to whir.

Now, _this_ was more like it. Finally, something to build up from! At least I don't feel like I'm wasting away in front of a TV anymore.

"Correct. There's also this to consider," L replied, before fast forwarding the tape and pausing at a certain moment. "If you watch closely, it seems like he's straining to look inside the train before the doors close. You can see right here."

I narrowed my eyes, analysing Penber's body language and focusing on the awkward way he stretched his neck to look back inside the train. So he was trying to get a last glimpse of something? Or perhaps even someone?

"If that's the case, do you think it could mean something?" Yagami inquired, suddenly appearing beside where I sat.

"Wouldn't it be interesting if Kira was on that train?" Ryuzaki pondered, turning his gaze to look back at us all.

The atmosphere stiffened and I could tell by looking around at the group's expressions that they didn't believe it - or didn't want to believe it, at least.   
"But that's impossible!" The Chief retorted, shaking his head, making me roll my eyes. Kira kills people with heart attacks, but the idea of him using public transport is so far fetched.

"Is it though?" I responded wittily, looking over at him. "Let's be honest, we only have a very vague idea of who Kira is, so he could easily have been at the station and we wouldn't have noticed any difference. Kira knows this and probably feels little to no concern appearing in public. Though I suppose if he did worry for his safety, he could have just disguised himself and kept his head down. Simple really."

The others contemplated my answer, some nodding in agreement. Chris stretched from beside me, slinging an arm around the back of my chair. "Hey, are you sure you're not Kira? Because you sound as though you have this all planned out." He joked, nudging me in the side, receiving a firm nudge back.

"If I really was Kira, you'd be the first one on my hitlist. Believe me, sweetheart." I snapped back, sending him my best evil villain expression - smirk and all. I got a few half suppressed laughs from the police officers and a faux look of terror from Chris, making me grin.

The one person who wasn't paying the slightest to our childish banter chose to speak up then, returning our focus to the task at hand.

"I'll admit, I find it hard to believe as well." L confessed, ignoring all our previous statements and continuing the conversation as though we’d never spoken. “There is no reason for Kira to come to the scene of his own crime when he can kill from a distance. Though perhaps he was counting on us to make that assumption and figured he could get away with such a bold move."

That would make sense. From what we'd seen so far, Kira really enjoyed giving us the slip and make us second guess our initial assumptions. This would be nothing new and, taking in all that I'd said earlier, it was entirely believable. I wouldn't bet on it, but I had absolutely no doubts that Kira could have been - and likely was - on that train. The possibility of that being true was exceedingly high and it just made me realise how difficult catching Kira is going to be. He can parade himself in public places, all the while laughing at our utter obliviousness when we don't notice he's even there. Anyone could be Kira - literally anyone - and that thought made my head spin all the more.

As the night went on, I became overly fatigued but the investigation into Penber's death only deepened. Repeatedly drifting in and out of the conversation going on around me, one thought continued to plague my mind: What was in that envelope Raye Penber had and why the hell did he leave it on the train?

 

* * *

 

The next day came quicker than I'd have liked and, after no more than four hours of sleep, I was hauled back to the hotel in which the detective was staying.

I was exhausted, to say the least. The bags under my eyes had darkended considerably over the past few days, hidden beneath many layers of concealer that I had caked on my face to avoid looking like a homeless drug addict (or L). The rest of my body didn't fare much better. My muscles ached from insufficient usage and my poor hair was tangled from being tugged on in frustration so often. Overall, I looked dead and part of me regretted every joining the investigation; the other part was too tired to form coherent thoughts.

The first thing I demanded when I arrived at L's hotel room was a cup of coffee, which was kindly provided by Watari. Mumbling a quiet thanks to him, I took a large gulp, cringing at the taste of my minty toothpaste blending with the bitter beverage. Usually I wouldn't have drunk it, but my energy level required a boost, and so I continued to sip at my drink despite its terrible flavour. Taking a quick scan at the few others who occupied the room, I didn't appear to be the only empty husk. The police officers rubbed at their eyes and yawned every few minutes, struggling to keep their eyes open. Beside me, Chris leaned his head on my shoulder, looking more than ready to pass out from exhaustion. The only one who didn't appear even remotely tired was, as you'd expect, the insomniac.

A loud ring from my right shook me awake. Matsuda's phone. The man in question took out his mobile, moving to either answer it or silence it. Before he could, however, L swiftly snatched it from his grasp and held it to his ear. Matsuda didn't seem too pleased by the gesture but didn't protest either way.

"Yes?" L answered. "This is Suzuki - head of Kira's investigation, public information division."

His lie was smooth, and the person on the other end of the line seemed to believe it because they didn't immediately hang up. The rest of us held our breath and waited to hear what the caller had to say. After a few patient moments, L spoke again.

"Raye Penber's fiancée?" He questioned, struck with confusion. "Naomi Misora."

The detective turned his head towards Watari, sending him a knowing look. The man to understand the meaning behind it and he quickly typed the woman's name into L's computer. She must've been important because it didn't take long for a result of her to show up on the computer database. Watari turned the screen to reveal a young woman with obvious Asian origins, and long dark hair that emphasised her pale features. Nosy as I was, I took a closer look and read her details. Scanning through them, I raised an impressed brow. She was a retired FBI agent - the same occupation as Penber. They must've met through work, I suppose.

My heart softened when that thought processed. Oh no  

Raye Penber - her _fiancé_ \- was dead. Murdered, in fact. She must've been distraught when she heard the news. From the photo, she appeared quite young. Perhaps still in her mid-twenties? Surely a sudden death like his must be tough to handle for someone so young. I can't even begin to imagine what she's experiencing right now.

A theory began to form in my mind as I realised just what reason that person might be calling in for. I instantly thought of the worst case scenario - suicide. Suicide wasn't uncommon among people who lose their significant others. Part of me hoped that wasn't the case but when L stood with his head hung low, I knew that it was.

"Apparently she's been missing since the day after her fiancé died." He told us as he handed the phone back to its original owner, drawing a collective sigh from all our lips. It seemed we all came to the same conclusion.

"I'm sure anyone in her situation would be pretty depressed. Was it... ?" Matsuda asked, leaving his answer unfinished. However, all of us knew what he was planning to say and we all nodded gravely.

"No." L declared otherwise, suddenly on his feet, pacing back and forth across the small room. "The Naomi Misora I knew was strong, and exceedingly intelligent. If anything, it's more likely she'd be trying to catch Kira."

The detective stopped dead in his tracks, with his back facing us. "It appears she came to Japan with Penber. It's possible that she may have found a lead." Upon hearing this, we were all left shocked.

A lead? Already? Without any prior information or consultation? Damn, this woman must've been good at her job. It's a shame she retired so early.

L suddenly went quiet, thumb hanging idly from his lip as he pondered his options.

"Everyone, at this point, I'd like to focus our investigation on only those people Raye Penber was tailing." He began, addressing us all. "I believe it may give us a larger insight into why he died."

"Very well." Mr Yagami sighed. "Who were the individuals?"

The man turned to face us, eyes dark.

There was a short pause when he hesitated, but then he spoke. "He was assigned to two police officers and those closest to them. Deputy director Kitamora and super intendant Yagami, along their families."

The whole room went silent and all heads jerked towards the direction of the Chief.

Well then.

This made things a little awkward.

We all exchanged looks with one another as we tried to ignore the look of pure horror on Mr Yagami's face. The poor guy looked like he'd just witnessed a car crash, or walked in on his parents doing the nasty. Can't blame him, though. This must really fucking suck. I mean, learning that you and your family were being stalked by the FBI was bad enough, but hearing that they've now been pushed to the top of the suspect list for possibly being Kira isn't exactly the cherry on top of the perfect day.

I felt nothing but pity for the man. I only wish the same could be said for certain other individuals, however.

"At this stage, I'd like to place wire taps and surveillance cameras in both households." L stated, not showing the slightest sensitivity towards the concerned husband and father who, quite frankly, looked to be on the verge of a midlife crisis.

Upon hearing his suggestion, the whole room went into uproar. "Surveillance cameras? Ryuzaki!" Matsuda spluttered, abhorred by the idea.

Personally, I didn't see what the big fuss was. Other than the fact that it was illegal and infringed so many human rights, there was nothing wrong with this idea. In fact, it seemed quite tame in comparison to all the stunts that L had pulled thus far.

"I don't see how you can even consider this." Aizawa muttered, shaking his head. "If this got out, we'd have a civil rights scandal on our hands. We'd all lose our damn jobs!"

L was remarkably unfazed, having already prepared a witty comment for this exact moment. "You told me you'd be willing to risk your lives for this investigation but you wouldn't risk your jobs?"

He had a point. As reasonable as their arguments may be, the police officers probably needed to do a priority check. They'd signed up to what was essentially the suicide club, but were having a hissy fit over the concept of a public scandal? Doesn't add up in my mind.

As soon as L finished speaking, I could already see Aizawa and Matsuda begin to protest. Rolling my eyes, I decided now was as good a time as any to speak up. After all, I was not willing to deal with all this yelling after staying up for the full night.

"Okay, everyone, come on!" I shouted over the ruckus, drawing all attention to me. "Do you really think it was by pure coincidence that Raye Penber died of a heart attack? If I were Kira and I had a feeling an FBI agent was tracking me, I'd want someone like him out of the way as soon as possible. If this was the case, then it might finally give us the lead we've been waiting for."

At this point, I'd earned a few compliant nods as the others members came to this realisation. Suddenly remembering that the Chief was still in the room and listening to me preach L's proposition, I turned to him. "Please don't take any offence from this Mr Yagami. I'm not accusing any member of your family; I'm just saying-"

"It's fine. I understand." He interrupted swiftly, clearly sensing that I felt disrespectful, letting me breath a sigh of relief.

"Ryuzaki, what are the odds that Kira is in one of those households?" He further inquired, his face more serious than I'd ever seen it.

The detective grew silent for a moment, thinking. "Maybe 10%." Then he shook his head. "No, it's closer to 5%."

For the second time, both Matsuda and Aizawa sprung to their feet and tried to intervene, telling the Chief that this was hugely preposterous, but Yagami stopped them. Myself and Chris stood silently on the sidelines, watching the scene unfold with eager and curious eyes.

"No," Yagami said quietly, his face crestfallen, "Out all the people we've investigated so far, not one of them seemed even the least bit suspicious. Even if there's only a 1% chance, we simply can't afford to ignore it."

He's actually really considering this, isn't he? That's honourable. To be honest, I was almost certain he'd say no to L's terms. I mean, he had good reason to - considering that he has a wife and two children (one of whom was a young teenage daughter), and with the task force being predominantly male, the whole concept seemed more than a little inappropriate.

"Chief, are you serious?" Aizawa asked, disbelief lining his voice.

Yagami raised his head, staring directly at Ryuzaki with an oddly mixed look of disgust and determination in his eyes. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you how offended I am to learn my family is under suspicion. Having said that, just go ahead with it. And make sure you install them everywhere. I don't want any blind spots in the house - and that includes the bathroom."

In response, the king of insensitivity said no words of reassurance, merely glad that his terms had been met. "Thank you very much. That was my intention."

For a moment, I thought that the task force had come to an equilibrium, but then the notorious pair began to object against this abuse of privacy.

"Come on, Chief, you don't have to agree to this." I heard from one of them.

"Yeah, he's right. Think about your family! You have a wife and daughter at home, don't you?" Said the other.

Chris and I remained mute, occasionally sending awkward looks at each other, trying to express our mutual discomfort with the situation. The Chief however was more than willing to share his thoughts right now.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that fact!" He bellowed at the insistent pair. "But there is no point in doing any of this if we can't be thorough! Now I suggest you both keep quiet!"

The two men instantly froze where they stood, eyes wide, slowly beginning to resemble kicked dogs. Hell, even I was so shocked that I flinched for a moment. I don't think I've ever seen any of these men act so angry - particularly the Chief. He also seemed so calm, so austere (well when he wasn't telling off Matsuda, that is). It just goes to show how everyone has a hidden side to their personality which they'll show if you piss them off enough.

The pair of them mumbled apologies as they bowed their heads, which Yagami accepted and apologised for his behaviour in response. That was it. Gee, if only brawls in the US could be handled so civilly.

L, who had been watching this argument like it was some sort of amateur soap opera, piped up then, "As a courtesy to the Chief and his family, only he and I will conduct surveillance of their home. Watari, how long will it take to prepare the wire taps and cameras we need?"

The man in question didn't even need to think before replying. "Well, starting tomorrow, we can set them up at anytime - providing we know when both houses will be empty."

Hold up, they can prepare wire taps that fast? How much money did they have in their pockets? Our orphanage barely had enough to pay the television bill! I was sensing some serious favouritism going on here...

Pushing aside my seething thoughts, I glanced over at Yagami who stood in one the room's corner, staring at the wall. My heart ached for him. He must be feeling so conflicted, torn between the investigation and his family's right to privacy. It's a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. Poor guy.

An idea suddenly burst its way into my mind and I mentally slapped myself for not thinking of it earlier. Walking over to him with a sudden confidence, I carefully placed one hand on his shoulder, not wanting to eager with what I was about to say. The man jumped a little but was quick to relax into my calming gesture - a good sign. "Mr Yagami, I understand that you must be feeling uneasy at the thought of invading your wife and daughter's privacy, for obvious reasons. So, if you prefer, I would be more than, erm..." I searched my brain for a fitting word. _Happy_? _Honoured_? No, that'd sound too creepy. After all, I am talking about watching a grown woman and prepubescent child undress and bathe. I don't want to sound too enthusiastic about that. "I'd be willing to survey the footage with you. If Ryuzaki permits me, of course."

"Actually, that's not a bad idea." I heard the detective say from behind me, making me almost jump out of my skin. I swear, the fucker has the stealth of an assassin. Perhaps he should take that up as a side job; he has the insensitivity for it.

"Chief Yagami, are you compatible with this?" He continued, pretending not to be amused with my hilarious reaction.

The Chief firmly nodded, sending me a grateful smile. "Yes, I actually would greatly prefer it. I owe you my gratitude, Agent."

"Not at all. I'm glad that I can be of some help." I replied with a small grin, feeling pleased that I'd finally been able to win this man's trust.

For a brief moment, I was actually happy with this turn of events, but - as was his custom - L had to rain on my parade. "Good. You do realise this will mean more late nights, Agent?"

Crap. I didn't think about that. Oh well, bye-bye sleep!

"That's okay. I'll manage. I'll just have to hype myself up on coffee and do a few press ups, then I'll be right as rain!" I replied cheerily (though inside, I was screaming bloody murder at my own stupidity).

As I contemplated casually going and committing suicide, I saw Chris wave me over from the other side of the room. Excusing myself from the conversation, I approached my friend, who gave me a warm smile and promptly said, "That was really sweet of you, A."

I deadpanned. Oh, so he's just going to mock me now?

"Don't patronise me, Chris. You're not the one having to give up what little sleep you get in order to watch members of your own sex undress and bathe - as if the situation wasn't awkward enough already."

The man held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm being serious. It's a generous thing to do, and I'm proud of you for doing it." Then, much to my surprise, he took a step closer to me and enveloped me in a hug.

"Hey! Why the sudden PDA?" I asked, his utter spontenousness drawing a laugh from my throat. However, the moment was short lived when I noticed the shocked glances being sent our way. Playfully punching Chris in the shoulder, I whispered, "These lot are going to start getting the wrong idea if you keep this up."

He didn't relinquish his grip on me, instead holding me tighter. "Don't get so stressed out about all this. I know you're tired, but we all are. It's been a really long night."

Realising his intentions, I relaxed into the hug and rested my head on his chest, breathing in the smell of his cologne that wafted up my nose.

"I know. Anyway, I'm not stressed. Like you said, I'm just tired." I replied, my tone softening. Chris chortled to himself, his quiet chuckle reverberating though his chest and onto my head resting on it. "Yeah, but either way, you turn into a bitch when you're tired."

I let out a scoff, pushing him away and almost instantly missing his warmth. "Shut up, you dolt. You're just as bad!"

"Not nearly." He muttered back as we sat back down with the group and began to discuss our next objective: the Yagami household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Rachel Watson is one of the main protagonists from the book turned movie 'Girl on the Train'. Spoiler alert - she likes going on the train *le gasp*


	5. Chapter Four

_Agreeing to this had been a big mistake._

I’d had a great start to my day. For starters, I’d been allowed to sleep in, recommend to get a fulfilling rest before observation began. I wasn’t going to argue with such a generous offer, so I’d managed to get an extra four hours, and boy, were they a good four hours. I actually felt somewhat invigorated when my alarm went off. Outside my window, the sun was shining through the smog and the air was refreshingly chilly, instead of just plain cold. When I arrived at L’s current residence, wrapped up snugly in a scarf and coat, I’d treated myself to a coffee instead of going straight to his room, and the bartender had actually smiled as he served me, wishing me a good day. Everything seemed to be on an uptake, and I was in a rare good mood.

And then I waltzed into L’s suite - curtains drawn, TVs on - and my mood sunk quicker than the Titanic.

The cameras and wire taps had just finished being installed in the Chief’s home when I arrived and we'd been glued to the screens ever since that point. Hours passed and frankly, I'd grown quite bored with observing the same old empty interior of the Yagami household, so my brain practically leapt with glee when the wire taps caught the sound of keys jingling.

_Finally_ , I thought.

A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal a young male, who entered his home with plain normality.

"That's your son, I presume?" I asked, turning to look at Yagami. The Chief nodded, not looking towards me.

Light Yagami. Seventeen years old, born February 28th in the year of 1989, and attended Daikoku Private Academy as a 12th grader. Also quite the looker, if I may say so myself. The blurry television screens didn't exactly offer the greatest state of the art visuals, but it was plain to see that Light Yagami was an attractive young man. I was sure that it was probably morally wrong to be having such thoughts for someone accused of being Kira and whose father I sat mere metres from, but I couldn't help myself. I hadn't seen someone who caught my fancy in a long while, so I allowed myself this short moment of sinful indulgence  

The boy closed the door behind him and called out for his mother, seemingly confused that no one else was in the house. He didn't pay this much thought however, as he made his way upstairs, heading straight for his bedroom. As he approached his door, he hesitated for a few seconds before nudging it open.

_Strange_.

As he made his way inside, he discarded his school bag, lazily shrugging it off his shoulder in one precise movement. Then he sat on the edge of his bed, moving to lying on it; stretching his arms behind his head. Light stayed in that position for precisely two seconds (I counted) before he got back up and threw on a jacket.

Well, that's even stranger. He must have a very short attention span. It's probably all that intelligence buzzing around in there, making him restless.

With the intention of heading someplace else, Light left his room and closed his door behind him with a quiet click. Oddly enough, before leaving, he knelt down on the floor and took a scrap of paper that he conveniently had in his pocket, firmly sliding it between the door and its frame.

I narrowed my eyes, baffled with the boy's behaviour.

_Okay_? Clearly someone has trust issues. Seriously, what secret does Light have to hide that he'd take such procedures in order to protect it from his family? I've heard of teenage boys being overly protective of their man caves but even this seemed a bit far fetched in my eyes.

"I don't believe it," His father commented, just as bewildered as any of us. "I never knew he went to such great lengths. What could he possibly be hiding?"

Well, that question sprouted a very long and _disturbing_ list... Lets just hope for Light's sake and Mr Yagami's dignity that it was nothing worse than porn.

"For a seventeen year old boy, I wouldn't say this kind of behaviour is particularly abnormal." L stated, then he paused, his tone shifting. "When I was his age, I did strange things too."

My eyes widened slightly as I glanced at the detective from out of the corner of my eye, and I discreetly shifted my chair further from his, a shiver travelling down my spine. I really did not want to know what sort of strange things he did at seventeen. He’s weird enough already. 

“Have you ever talked to your son about the investigation?" L enquired, eyes still planted firmly on the screen.

The Chief actually looked insulted."Of course not! I've never once revealed classified information to my family!" He protested, "Besides, I don't get to see them too often these days. Usually as soon as I get home, all I can do is sleep."

Chuckling bitterly, I nodded in grim understanding.

"You can say that again. I haven't felt this tired in ages." I said, stretching out my limbs for emphasis. Then, I lowered my voice and leaned closer to L so that Mr Yagami wouldn't be able to overhear. "In fact, I've been spending so much of my spare time sleeping, that I haven't even had chance to argue with the boys back home for divulging my personal information."

I knew that that comment would evoke a reaction from L and I was right in thinking so. Slowly, he turned to face me with an unimpressed expression on his face, probably presuming that I'd let the whole thing go by now. In return, I sent him a smug look that said ' _yeah, I still haven't forgotten about that, **fucker**_ ' and gave him a glimpse of what I considered to be my best stink eye. Like I'd expected, the man said nothing, merely staring at me a moment too long before turning his attention back to the many television screens. His reaction was lackluster at best, but I knew I'd gotten my message across and basked in the essence of sweet, sweet victory.

You know, I regarded myself as quite a placid person (for the most part). I didn't see the point in holding grudges and letting your anger bottle up inside you; it just wasn't a healthy mindset to put yourself in. But this was a whole new circumstance. This infuriated me so much that I had long passed the point of being able to let it go and forgive the wrongdoers. I was beyond furious at L and I wanted to let him know that. He had absolutely no right to ask for information in the first place, let alone read it. I had a half mind to argue with him as well, but I feel like he'd somehow win the argument anyway and I'd have accomplished nothing. So, he had to put up with hostile gazes and snarky comments for the time being. Lucky him.

We waited another ten to twenty minutes before Light returned home, this time with a blue envelope in hand. From the shape of it, it looked like a book or a magazine of some sort. My scepticism growing, I silently prayed that what he held in his hand wasn't what I thought it was. Much to my chagrin, my prayers were left unanswered. As soon as Light was back in the safety of his man cave, he stripped out of his jacket and tore open the package.

It was at this moment that I whole heartedly regretted my decision to come here.

It seemed Mr Pretty Boy had bought himself a naughty little magazine.

Cursing whichever God was up there and blatantly chose to ignore me, I buried my head in my hands, letting out an uncomfortable moan. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me." 

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't prude in the slightest and I certainly wasn't new to the concept of sex, but I was no voyeur. I wasn't exactly eager to watch other people fondle themselves. The only time I'd been in a situation even remotely similar to this was when Chris forgot to delete his browser history, which I saw when at the innocent age of thirteen. As mentally scarring as that incident was, at least then I could quickly delete it and never have to look at it again. In this case, I'm not so fortunate.

"Do you need a minute, Agent?" L asked me, a hint of amusement lining his tone.

I shook my head repeatedly, not wanting to give him more reason to laugh at my humiliation. "No, no. I'm good. It's fine." I told him, desperately trying to draw the blood away from my cheeks, which were growing redder by the minute.

Alright, man up! It's only pictures of the female body; a body which I have and see regularly each day (given, I don't see my body in such _compromising_ positions). I can handle this.

But, I swear to God, if Light starts getting a bit too _hands-on_ , then I'm leaving. There's no way I'm bringing myself to watch that, regardless of how attractive he may be.

Sitting back in my chair, I watched the screen through blank eyes, my face frozen in an expression of utter awkwardness. If I was already this embarrassed, then I can't imagine how mortified Yagami must feel. This really must be tainting his son's perfect image, huh?

"I cannot believe my son is looking at those magazines!" Yagami gasped, sounding disgusted.

Yep, there we go. Enter the stereotypical aghast father who acts like he hasn't done this before.

"It's normal for a seventeen year old." L reassured him, once again making me wonder how the hell he would know what a _normal_ seventeen year old does in his spare time... Nevermind, I actually didn't want to know the answer.

Jesus, Chris is going to have so much fun laughing at me when I tell him about this later. I'm already picturing it.

"Although," The detective drawled, interrupting my vivid trail of thought. "This seems contrived. The only reasons he didn't want anyone in his rooms were because he had his magazines? It's too obvious."

Wow, harsh much? Yeah, just say something like that to a concerned father's face; that's not at all the recipe for disaster. Personally, I would've been a bit lighter with my words. Take this, for example:

"Yeah. No offence, Mr Yagami, but I have to agree with Ryuzaki on this one. I know boys can be exceedingly careful if their hiding something, but even this seems a bit ridiculous." I said, choosing my words with extreme caution and offering the man a sheepish smile.

You see, light and delicate, but straightforward all at once. Like ripping off a bandaid. Easy peasy.

Despite my confident attempt at diffusing the situation, the Chief - quite literally - exploded.

"Need I remind you that that's my son you're taking about. Are you honestly telling me that you suspect him?" He yelled, his face turning red with anger, staring us down with such venom that it made me shrink back into my seat.

I pressed my lips together, saying nothing. It's just better if I don't reply, isn't it? Let him have his moment and then he'll cool down. He's a nice man; he probably won't hit me - I'm a woman - just as long as I don't push him further, right?

I was right, but the proven suicidal man to my right disagreed.

"I do suspect him. That's why I placed wire taps and surveillance cameras in your house."

Was he serious right now?

Biting down on my lip to avoid snapping something at him, I whipped my head in his direction and sent him and incredulous look instead. For a detective as great as he was, I honestly thought he'd know better about how to handle people's emotions. Obviously I couldn’t trust him to tread on eggshells.

I could already sense a sharp comeback from Mr Yagami but thankfully for me and my poor bleeding ears, a shrill voice emitted from the TV and offered us a much needed distraction. Yagami's daughter - Sayu - had just called her brother down for dinner and Light, making one final comment about how misleading magazine covers were, headed down after hiding his magazine in a binder on his bookshelf.

Mr Yagami seemed to come to his senses then and took his seat, drawing a long sigh of relief from my lips. Thank god for Sayu Yagami and her convenient timing.

The three of us watched as the Yagami family sat down to have dinner. It was odd to watch; like some sort of exceptionally dull reality TV show. Sayu was busy fawning over a certain Hideki Ryuga - who I assumed was a Japanese actor - while her mother and Light ate contently at the table, making quiet conversation between themselves.

A wave of wonder hit me and I smiled sadly, thinking, is this what a perfect family looked like?

Before I could become too overly emotional towards what was considered average family behaviour (which is a little pathetic, even for me), a news flash popped up on the TV screen. Curious, I leaned forward to tried to make out the image, but it was way too far away for me to see clearly, particularly from the angle that the camera was positioned at. Thankfully, as if hearing my thoughts, Sayu voiced it for me.

"Huh? What's this? ICPO?" She read jerkily, catching the attention of her mother and brother who looked towards the television.

With a curious glint in my eye, I glanced over at L. I thought he was done with pulling media stunts?

"They're saying that ' _in response to the Kira murders, Interpol have decided to dispatch a force of 1,500 investigators to Japan. The investigators were drawn from the law enforcement agencies of its member nations_ '."

I sat up a little straighter, blatantly confused.

"That's not true, is it?" I drawled, looking over at the detective who watched the scene with keen intent.

"Of course not. I just wish to see how both families respond." He replied, sending me a look that closely translated to ' _duh_ ,  _don't be thick_ '.

Huffing, I sat back in my seat and rolled my eyes. It wasn't my fault that I was sceptical of his decisions. I'd only known him a couple months and already I'd witnessed him do many stupid things. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if he did bring 150 investigators to Japan; he'd find a way to justify it and then blame them if they died.

"The ICPO sure is stupid." Light chimed in suddenly, making me whip my head back to face the blurry TV that was surely going to give me a migraine. "I mean, there's no point in making this announcement. If there gonna send all these people here to investigate, shouldn't they keep it a secret?"

Well, he caught our bluff. Good on him, I suppose. He made a fair point.

Light, with his terrible habit of overexplaining things, continued, "Even the FBI agents who were secretly investigating were killed by Kira. Why would this be any different? If you ask me, this is nothing more than a desperate attempt to shock Kira in hopes he'll reveal himself somehow."

I was surprised. I knew Light was smart, extraordinarily so, but this was not what I was expecting. The way he spoke, with such conviction, it sure sounded like he had a brain built for police work. His thought process was critical. To me, it somehow seemed like he was aware of everything we had planned, analysing the situation as though he was one step ahead of us. It was at this time, my friend's words came back to me.

' _Are you sure you're not Kira? Because you sound as though you have this all planned out_.'

It's ironic, really. Perhaps too ironic.

"Quite frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if Kira sees right through this." The boy concluded, a shadow of smile ghosting across his face.

Okay, now he's toying with us. He has to be. It’s like he knows we're watching and is taunting us regardless. What a confident ass.

I sighed, rubbing a hand across my face. I really do not want to suspect him. Truly. With a mind like that, he could do so many good, wholesome things. But making comments like that can only ever succeed in drawing unwanted attention to yourself. He'd tossed the bait and now I was biting.

Of course, I would never admit any of this to the Chief. I wouldn't want to upset him. He's already stressed out as it is.

I heard a suppressed chuckle from beside me. "Your son's clever, isn't he?" L asked, a dangerously low tone to his voice.

Ah. So he had the same thought I did. At least we're on the same page.

"Erm, _well_ , yes." Yagami responded uneasily, rightfully sensing that L's comment was not intended to praise his son.

"He speaks with very high intelligence. Extremely mature." I added quickly. "I assume he's doing well in school, then?" I questioned with a little grin, trying desperately to change the mood.

My planned worked smoothly, and Mr Yagami beamed. "He's doing very well. He's top of his class. In fact, his teachers believe that he may be the best in the district - if not the whole of Japan." The man spoke proudly of his son - as any father should.

I nodded my head, raising an impressed brow.

Okay, so he has the looks of a Calvin Klein model and he's a genius? Do boys like this even exist (outside of murder investigations, that is)?

With a frustrated sigh, I shook away my intrusive thoughts and tuned back in to what was happening in the Yagami household, watching as Light thanked his mother for his dinner and rose from his chair, pulling a sealed bag from one of the cabinets.

" _Huh_?!" Sayu squealed. "You're eating a bag of chips? You just had dinner! You're good looks are gonna go down the drain if you keep that up." She scolded her brother, shaking her head jokingly.

"It's a late night snack for studying." The other assured her before retreating to his room, chips and coffee in hand.

Once there, he locked his door (non-surprisingly) and sat down at his desk, preparing himself for his revision. Upon seeing this, I groaned.

Oh goodie. This'll be entertaining. Watching a 12th grader answer maths questions for God knows how long. Light Yagami just had to be the kid who stays up all night doing equations, didn't he?

Masking my exasperation, I sat further back in my chair and tired to keep my focus - which wasn't too hard, considering that Light likes to ' _talk to himself_ ' for motivation. Yeah, weird.

After about an hour of the same repetitive ' _write, pause, eat a chip, write, pause_ ' routine, I began to get pretty tired. Stretching my arms over the back of the chair, I let out a big yawn and rubbed my dry eyes.

"Tired?" I heard the detective's voice quip from beside me.

Wow. Stating the obvious much.

Biting back any snide remarks was hard, bearing in mind how tired I was. Instead, I rolled my eyes. "Well, aren't you? This is like watching paint dry." I said in response, stifling another yawn.

_Coffee_. I needed coffee so badly.

"I agree that it is not the most exciting thing to observe, but it is necessary."

"Ryuzaki." A stern voice spoke from behind us.

I manoeuvred myself to see Watari approaching, papers in hand.

Shit. This couldn't be good news.

"Yes? What is it, Watari?" L responded, eyes glued to the TV set.

"A few minutes ago, a bank clerk being questioned on suspicion of embezzlement and a purse snatcher being held in a detention cemetery were broadcast on the news. They have both just died of heart attacks."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, remaining silent as Watari handed the papers to the Chief, who practically leapt to his feet.

"Mr Yagami, whilst all that was happening, your wife and daughter were watching television. When that was over, they turned the TV off and didn't watch anything afterwards. From just past 7:30 until now, your son has done nothing but study."

I slouched back into my chair, feeling a flurry or emotions. You'd think that'd write them off the suspect list, wouldn't it? Clearly, they couldn't have caused the criminals' death; we were watching them the whole time. Then, why does it feel like we're missing something?

"Kira needs a name and a face to kill. Without those, he is powerless. So I suppose anyone who didn't watch the news, can't be Kira. Right?" L said to himself, still as stoic as ever, his rhetorical question lingering in the silence.

"Yes. You said it yourself, Ryuzaki. That means my family has been cleared." Yagami declared, watching the detective with hopeful eyes, his desperation to clear his family from suspicion was plain to see. However, he received no response.

"It doesn't make sense that Kira would kill two petty criminals right after their identities were broadcasted." L mumbled, bowing his head in thought.

"Maybe he's running out of people to kill?" I offered.

The man shook his head. "No, it doesn't seem that way. There are still thousands of criminals stationed all over the world who have committed crimes far worse than embezzlement and robbery."

Of course, he was right. When wasn't he? Risking a glance, I looked over to Yagami and saw that he’d gone pale, horrified at the other man’s words. Alarms started blaring in my ears.

"I know it's only the first day after the cameras were installed but the Yagami household seems almost too innocent to me."

The Chief began to protest, stepping towards L with determined strides. Anticipating conflict, I jumped to my feet and quickly intercepted, standing inbetween the two men.

"Mr Yagami, please don't take any of this to heart." I said with raised hands, trying to calm the enraged man. "We're not condemning your family of anything, we're simply being cautious. This is a very serious case and we can't afford to overlook anything - whether it's personal or not. Try to understand."

Unfortunately, my master plan backfired and the few reassuring words I'd said flew back to slap me across the face.

"I understand perfectly well. You two are the ones who don't seem to understand. How would you feel if it was your family under suspicion?" He argued, practically at me.

Flinching, I took a step back. It wasn't that he had yelled at me; it was what he had said. It wasn't like I hadn't heard it before but the family card never played well with me. It was a shock to hear it from someone I'd considered to be so calm and cool.

Firming my lips, I lowered my gaze, not having the courage to look him in the eyes. "I wouldn't know." I answered quietly. "I don't have a family."

The man's face - formerly red with anger - drained of all emotion. The look in his eyes was not judgemental, but rather questioning; I could practically see the cogs in his head wirring as he processed what I'd said. The other two men in the room said nothing, merely watched on with passive looks. I ignored them both.

Just as the atmosphere was becoming unbearable to stand in, Yagami seemed to come to his senses and began apologising profusely. I raised my hand to silence him. "No, don't. It's okay. I understand you're upset and it's perfectly normal for someone to want to protect their family at all costs. Forgive me for intervening in a matter I can't empathise with." I muttered, turning away with a solemn face.

The room went silent after that. Watari left. Yagami buried his head in his hands (most likely composing himself after his outburst). As for L... _well_ , he was just being himself. I didn't expect much of a response from him anyway because, unlike Mr Yagami, he could relate. He was an orphan too, previously residing in St Mary's sister orphanage in the UK, the more famous of the two - known locally as Wammy's House (I had asked Watari about this. It's only fair I get some dirt on L after all the extensive research he did on me). Therefore, it came as no huge shock when I looked over at the detective and saw he'd reverted back to ignoring me, directing his attention to the TV instead.

As I slumped back into my chair, curling my legs into my chest and fighting the urge to sulk, I too forced myself to focus on the television. From what the cameras showed, it seemed that throughout the whole ordeal, Light had finally stopped his revision work and had began to get undressed for bed.

Seeing this, my change in mood was instantaneous. I was grossly intrigued. Watching as Light unbuttoned his shirt in tantalisingly slow movements, I felt heat rise to my cheeks, part of me questioning my sudden lack of modesty. However, before I had the privilege to see the boy's bare chest, a hand flew up in front of my eyes.

"Hey!" I yelled, trying to swat away the hand, knowing just whose arm it belonged to. "What's that for?"

"You are here for one purpose, Agent, and that is to conserve Mrs Yagami's and Sayu Yagami's privacy. However, this does not apply to Light Yagami, seeing as he is male and you are not." The amusement in his voice was hard to miss and it made me seethe.

I tried so hard to formulate a clever and witty response, but nothing came to mind. Annoyed, I huffed and waited patiently for the moment when one of the two ladies went to bed so I could smack L in the face too.

No more than a minute later, the hand that obstructed my view was moved and there on the TV laid Light Yagami, tucked up in bed and snoozing peacefully.

_Great_ , I thought, now we have to watch him sleep. Isn't that technically perversion? Christ, I don't even know what sort of laws we're breaking in this case anymore.

Nevertheless, the three of us sat there in an uncomfortable silence, and watched.

And watched.

_And watched_.

Damn, this was boring! Time was crawling by at an agonisingly slow pace. Every now and then, I'd glance at my watch, only to see that ten or twenty minutes had passed. Currently, I noted, it had just turned half one. My head was pounding with lack of sleep and I was having major trouble keeping my eyes open. In my suffering, I was beginning to think I'd find more entertainment in clawing my eyes from my skull. Part of me was considering it.

After a while - I don't know when - my eyes dropped closed and I eventually drifted off.

* * *

 

Some time later, I began to stir. My senses came to life one by one, individually offering me pieces of information that I could use to discern my surroundings. My ears were the first to kick in, catching sounds of faint static and computed keys being pressed - ah, so I was still at work, then. Squirming slightly, I felt something soft covering me, encasing my body like a cocoon. It was a nice sensation. The air around me was warm, but not uncomfortably so, and smelt familiarly of coffee.

_Coffee_!

My eyes immediately sprung open but were quickly snapped shut again when the sunlight streaming through the curtains temporarily blinded them. _Ouch_.

On top of that, I was cramping in every part of my tucked-up body. It felt like I'd just spent eighteen hours on a plane. Releasing a quiet groan, I stretched out my stiff limbs and manouvered myself out of my awkward foetal position on the armchair. In doing so, I carelessly dropped the duvet that was draped over me onto the floor, landing there with a gentle rustle.

Wait, what?

Looking down, I saw that there was indeed a white bedsheet laying on a crumpled heap beneath me - one that had provided me with the cozy, cocoon-like sensation earlier that morning. Where on earth had that come from?

" _Erm_." I said stupidly, very bewildered by this point.

"Oh, you're awake." A certain someone's husky voice muttered from behind me.

Whipping my head around, I was met with a mug of coffee in my face.

Gingerly, I took it, and gulped down a much needed swig.

"Thanks." I replied, my voice hoarse with tiredness. "Hey, Ryuzaki?"

He hummed to let me know he was listening as he perched himself in his chair beside me.

"What time did I fall asleep?"

Let's face it, last night just merged into one long, excruciatingly boring timeframe. I can't even distinguish what happened or when it happened. I don't think I realised how tired I was in the first place.

"Well, you kept drifting off for a while, but I'd say you officially fell asleep at around 2am." He informed me, sparing me the odd glance now and then, even as he glued his eyes to the television screen.

Impressed, I nodded my head, proud of my endurance. "Oh, that's not too bad for me. I thought I'd doze off a lot earlier. Did I miss anything?" I asked, taking another sip of my coffee, relishing in the disgustingly bitter taste that it filled me with.

"Besides the family sleeping? No, you didn't." He replied, still refusing to take his eyes off the screen.

"Boy, I bet that was exhilarating to watch." I joked humourlessly, crossing my legs over one another and shuffling into a more comfortable position.

We didn't speak for a few moments after that and I found myself enjoying the tranquil ambience that the quiet provided. To my surprise, I didn't feel as awkward in L's company as I originally thought. Whilst I still loathed him for infringing my privacy, he was still a huge idol in my eyes and I held a huge amount of respect for all that he'd done thus far. However, the air between us wasn't tense in the slightest. On the contrary, it was oddly comforting; like I'd known him forever.

Shaking my head, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and quickly scanned my notifications. Like I expected, a handful of them were texts from Chris. Nothing too interesting - just the routinely 'goodnight/good morning' messages we'd send each other if we didn't get a chance to say it in person. Grinning, I began to type a reply and chose to send him a polite good morning message, accompanied with a smiley emoticon. I refused to ruin his morning by complaining about how exhausted I was. Besides, he was in the same situation as I with watching the Kitamora household - only he had to put up with the likes of Matsuda and Aizawa. To be honest, between me and him, I don't know who has it worst.

Pressing send, I put my phone away and glanced around the hotel room, noticing the Chief was fast asleep in his chair, much like I'd been a few minutes ago (however, I did take note that he didn't have a duvet draped over him as I had).

Frowning, I cast a dubious glance in the direction of the detective. "By the way," I started saying, folding the duvet over my lap and placing it over the back of the chair. "Who covered me with the blanket?"

"I did." He admitted, no hesitation.

Raising my brows, I further questioned him. "Why?"

The detective tossed me a brief, blank look. "You looked cold." He stated simply.

For a moment, I was shocked. Who'd have thought? L actually has the heart to care about other people. It seems like wonders will never cease.

Not being able to muster up a suitable response, I ended up watching the dark haired man until we began to engage in a rather intense staring competition. The pair of us held each other's gaze before I began to feel intimated and awkward, and instantly dropped my gaze to the floor. With a gentle cough, I regained my composure and spoke up.

"Right, well, thanks for that; I appreciate it." I told him, standing up and heading to the bathroom with the intent to relieve myself. All of a sudden, I paused, pivoting on my heel and sporting a wicked smirk. "Oh, but if that was your way of trying to make me forgive you, you'll have to do better than that because it didn't work."

The detective's face didn't change but I could see that he was at least mildly annoyed at being caught out. "I didn't expect it to." I grinned at my victory and spun once again on my heel, heading back in the direction of the bathroom. "Agent?" He called out, stopping me dead in my tracks.

"Yes?" I responded, tilting my head back to see the detective eyeing me down, unnvering me a little.

The man in question paused for a short moment, flicking his eyes between me and the sleeping Chief, before finally saying,"Do you think that someone in the Yagami family could be Kira?"

I was startled by the question. Don't get me wrong, I knew a question like this would pop up at some point (and what better time to discuss it than when the Chief is asleep) but I didn't even know the answer to it myself. Damn, I hate being put on the spot like this.

Taking a deep breath, I stood up straighter and gave him my honest view.

"Personally, I don't want to think that anyone is Kira and that this is just some kind of sick coincidence." I started saying, earning myself a questionable look as soon as the words left my mouth. "Yes, I know it won't be a coincidence - of course not - but I hate to think that humanity has struck so low to commit an act as vile as murder whilst using the law to justify it. Honestly, I can't even imagine someone who would kill on such a grand scale all in the name of justice? Its mad." I explained, my eyes wavering to the floor as the reality of the situation hit me.

Despite the epic demonstration of my speech making skills, L was unimpressed. He looked back to the TV with no reply, clearly annoyed that I'd totally avoided the question and gave him such a wussy answer. However, I wasn't finished.

"But," I added swiftly, making the detective look back towards me with a sharp turn of the neck. "If I had to say either yes or no, I'd say maybe. What you said last night was true. They do seem a bit too perfect - like an ideal, picture family who could do no wrong. It's a tad bittersweet for my taste. Something is wrong in that house. I don't know what, but there's definitely something there."

That response was much better in his eyes, and L gave me a sharp nod as a reward.

"You're exactly right. In my opinion, Yagami's son appears to be standing out the most." He confided, making me perk with intrigue. "What he said last night over dinner may be considered insightful, and, given the rate of his intelligence, this would come as no surprise. However, there's an odd quirk about him. A certain-"

"Confidence?" I offered.

The man nodded, eyes glimmering with fervour. "Yes. It's highly suspicious. What's more is the unnecessary lengths he goes to in order to protect his room from others. It makes one wonder just what he may be hiding."

I hummed, nodding my head in agreement. I was glad that we had come to the same conclusion and I would've stood there longer, basking in the newfound harmony between us, but my bladder had began to threaten flood warnings if I didn't move now.

"If you don't mind, Ryuzaki, I really need to use the bathroom." I piped up, an obviously fake yet bright smile plastering itself across my face.

The eagerness in his eyes now gone, he hunched back into his position, facing the TV, and dismissed me. "Of course. Go ahead."

Rude. Eye contact is key when talking to people, you know.

In spite of L's failed etiquette, I swiftly crossed the length of the room and slid into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. There, I looked into the mirror and saw a washed out version of myself staring back at me. Scrutinising my every feature, I noticed the bags under my eyes were much darker than usual and my face somehow looked pastier - even with my makeup on from the day before.

Ha. Now I'm beginning to look like Ryuzaki. That's not a good sign.

As I began to pamper myself to suit my standards better (starting with my god-awful excuse for hair), I hot-wired my brain and began to think with the mind of an agent.

In law, we are always told that the accused is innocent until proven guilty, but can we really do that in this case? You can't simply hand someone a heart attack on a silver plate. If it was that easy, we'd have found Kira by now with the use of a simple forensic team.

Kira seems to have an unexplainable, supernatural way of killing others - he doesn't even need to be present at his own murder scene. So, how on earth are we going to manage to find this killer and, more importantly, learn how he kills?

The better question is - what if we never do?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took a little longer to upload than I had hoped. I’ve had a lot of personal things going on with my health but hopefully I’m back on track now. 
> 
> Remember to drop a comment! They’re really motivating to see <3


	6. Chapter Five

A full week had passed since we first began our obersevations on the Yagami and Kitamora households, and we were as close to catching Kira as we were the week prior. The whole experiment had proven next to nothing (other than the fact that the Yagami family would not make good reality TV stars because their lives were so mundane) and it annoyed me to no end. I'd gotten word from Chris that the Kitamora household had proven to be just as innocent - and therefore just as useless. As insensitive as it may sound, I kind of wanted someone in those families to be Kira, solely so that we could wrap up this investigation and get to the good part - learning how Kira kills. Sadly, this turned out to not be the case. And so we were back at square one.

However, due to mine and L's little _inkling_ regarding Light Yagami, the detective made the choice to attend the university's freshman ceremony. Although, this wasn't a trip made in good spirits meant to congratulate the boy, oh no. This was an opportunity to catch him out. L had the genius - read: _insane_ \- idea to take the entrance exam to To-Oh university (the same one that Light desired to attend) and introduce himself to Light through these means. As one would expect, the detective passed said exam with flying colours with Light sharing his achievement, both having scored the highest number of marks within their cohort. _Nerds_.

Having much more firsthand experience with criminals and being able to read their expressions, Chris and I were dragged along by our ears. We'd been briefed beforehand that L would speak with Light Yagami during the ceremony and the two of us, sat alongside them in the audience, would monitor the boy's reactions (what he was going to discuss with Light was beyond me and frankly, I didn't care. He could say whatever he wanted to. It'd probably be something completely moronic anyway). I didn't particularly want to do this, nor did I think we were necessary, but I didn't protest.

So now I sat in Watari’s car, tugging anxiously at my pencil skirt and eyeballing at Chris, who sat beside me in a smart tuxedo. Somehow, likely though the power of alcohol and dark magic, Chris had convinced me into wearing a skirt and (even more amazingly) convinced me into heels. He claimed it would be inappropriate for me to turn up in my jeans and converse. L had been quick to agree with my friend's statement, which I thought was highly hypocritical of him, given that he was still clad in his statement clothing - baggy blue jeans and a white sweatshirt. And he was the one who was supposed to give a speech onstage where he'll be the centre of attention! Personally I think they both just wanted to torment me.

However, as if this humiliation wasn't bad enough already, I'd been told - more like ordered - to _spark_ a conversation with Light after the ceremony regarding Kira. How was I going to do this, you may ask? I hadn't the faintest clue. Socialising was not my strongest asset, and asking openly about Kira was guaranteed to raise red flags. Frankly, I couldn't see how I - a stranger - could spontaneously inquire about Kira to someone who’s somehow aware he’s a suspect without seeming the least bit suspicious myself. If Light's as smart as his exams suggest - which is _very fucking smart_ \- he'll catch on right away. I'm screwed. I just hoped Chris could charm his way into it; he was always a smooth talker, moreso than I.

Eventually, the car we were in pulled up about half a mile away from the school and Chris and I exited, bidding our goodbyes to Watari - our chauffeur for the day. The detective was still in the car at this point, perched in the front seat, and threw us an self-entitled smirk as the vehicle pulled away. Grinding my teeth, I glared back and forced my hands to stay by my side, fighting the compelling urge to give him the finger. I understood that we weren't supposed to be seen with him, for obvious reasons, but it was hugely petty to make us walk all that way - especially considering that I was wearing literal death traps on my feet.

"Come on you, this isn't the time to start PMSing." Chris said with a sigh, setting a steady pace along the sidewalk and pulling me along by the wrist. With a final shake of my head, I complied and began walking alongside him - or trying to, at least. I wasn't exactly well practised in the fine art of walking in heels, and I was struggling to keep my balance.

You know, may women claim that wearing heels symbolises power, and that each step was like setting off a miniature grendae. For me, however, each little click against the pavement was a constant reminder to not fall flat on my face.

_Don't. Trip. Don't. Trip. Don't. Trip._

"So, what do you think we should say to this guy?" The man asked, earning a half-assed shrug from me.

"I don't know. I thought you'd have some good ideas." I answered absentmindedly, straining all my attention on keeping up with his huge strides. "Hey. Do you mind if we slow down a bit? Heels aren't exactly the easiest things to walk in."

Chris chuckled at that, but thankfully slowed his pace. "Well, we have some options for how we could do this. Obviously we can't flat out interrogate him, but nor can we start a friendly conversation with Kira as our main topic. This is tricky."

I nodded in agreement. "We need to be discreet if we want to do this right. Grovelling could work. We'll just lather him up in praise for his achievement at getting freshman representative, coax him into trusting us, and then hopefully he'll answer some of our questions about Kira."

Chris seemed sceptical so I quickly added, "It's a known fact that compliments get you everywhere."

The man thought about it a moment longer and then shrugged. "Fine. That works for me. But how are we going to introduce ourselves? We can't just be anybody. The only people at this ceremony will be students, their loved ones, and teachers."

Scoffing, I replied, "That's easy. One of us will act as an exchange student from the US who got a scholarship for To-Oh."

"Alright, and who'll be the exchange student?"

"Me. I'm closer to Light's age, so it'll be more believable. I'll just use my alias." As I finished speaking, I turned to Chris, narrowing my eyes in thought about what his role would be. "As for you, well... you can have the honour of being my long term boyfriend from the states. You came here to live with me whilst I studied at university. Pick any name you want."

Despite how much I loathed my decision, I had to choose boyfriend. A family member - like a brother or cousin - wouldn't move all the way to Japan just because their relative got a scholarship. A partner would be the only reasonable excuse.

Chris perked up at that, and he grinned instantly. "Jacob Blake. It's my old one from the last case." There was a pause, and a suggestive smirk appeared on his face. "That okay with you, babe?"

I stopped walking. The use of the pet name caught me off guard for a moment and I stumbled, my heel catching in a crack in the pavement. Luckily, I recovered my balance before I face planted onto the concrete, and immediately sent a heated look (one consisting of both anger and embarrassment) towards my associate.

The man's smile dropped and he was swift to raise his hands, not wanting to piss me off further. "I'm just practising! I want this to be believable." He argued, but the amused glint in his eyes said otherwise.

"Whatever." I grumbled, rolling my eyes. "Anyway, we need to think of how to actually introduce Kira into the conversation. Personally, I have no idea how we're going to pull that off. That's definitely going go be the hardest part."

"Beats me." He sighed, tilting his head in thought, and humming to himself. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see his childish grin reappear. "But, if worst comes to worst, we can always just say _'oh, hey, are you Kira? Because you make my heart pound_.'"

I frowned, contemplating what I just heard come out of my friend's mouth.

Did he really just make a heart attack pun or did my ears deceive me?

Looking over at my friend, who had a stupidly happy expression plastered on his face, I couldn't hold back the small laugh that was bubbling up at the back of my throat and ended up snorting loudly at his terrible excuse of a joke. "Oh yeah. Let's use a pickup line on Kira. That'll work!"

"It totally could!" He said with a laugh, jabbing me in the side and evoking even more laughter from me.

After a few more blocks, we'd arrived at the academy, my feet aching and my sides in stitches. It was a very impressive building (in fact, if I wasn't here to interrogate a suspected murderer, I think I would've taken my time to admire it) and there were quite a few people gathering outside its doors. There was no sign of L among the crowd, so I assumed he had already gone inside.

I shuffled awkwardly at my friend's side, trying not to put pressure on my sore, gradually blistering, heels. I was seriously considering chopping my own feet off; I'm sure it'd be less agonising. Seriously, I hope whoever invented high heels is burning in Hell right now and are feeling very fucking pleased with themselves for causing people such excruciating pain.

"You need a minute, hop-a-long?" Chris asked me, appearing concerned but I could feel the humour radiating off of him.

"No, but _you'll_ need a minute after I'm done with beating you for making me wear these stupid torture mechanisms." I snapped, sizing him up with a nasty scowl.

Chris began to snicker, looking me up and down obscenely. "But you look so pretty now! It makes a nice change to your choice in daywear."

My face instantly hardened at his sexist insult and I slapped him across the chest as discreetly as I could without causing too much of a scene.

"Girls wear pants too! There's nothing wrong with them. They're comfortable and I like them. End of story." I argued, shaking my head at his obnoxious - and not to mention, _loud_ \- behaviour that was attracting many judgemental eyes. "Let's face it, you just want to see me suffer."

He made a cute puppy dog face and wrapped his arms around my mid section, trapping me against his broad chest, smiling down at me with the innocence of a saint. "Aw, I'm sorry. Do you want me to wear heels with you next time?"

I nodded grimly. "I think you should. It would help with the much needed bonding in our friendship. If you try them on, then you can truly sympathise with me after realising how damn painful they are." I teased, pushing back against his sweltering embrace.

"Alright, it's a date. You, me and Alexander McQueen. It'll be fun." He said, springing away from our friendly embrace and practically skipping inside, leaving me on my own among a dissipating crowd.

What a prick.

I stared on at his retreating form with seething anger in my eyes and began trudging towards the entrance, mumbling curses under my breath. In my vexation, I admittedly wasn't looking where the hell I was going and failed to notice the civillian stood mere metres in front of me - not even walking, juste stood there. As humanity is not yet blessed with the art of gracefully falling over, I walked straight into said statue figure and instantly toppled. I landed harshly on the floor, my hands sticking out behind me to lessen the impact of my fall. Regardless, I still felt the throbbing pain on my ass and knew there'd be some very ugly bruises there by this time tomorrow.

Mortified with myself, my cheeks began heating up and all I wanted was to sink into the concrete below me to escape the humiliation. A hand reached out to me and I gratefully, albeit shamefully, took it. With a gentle tug, the hand helped me to my feet and I made quick work of tugging my skirt back below my knees, feeling another rush of heat flood my face. With an awkward smile, I looked up to thank my chivalrous saviour and almost choked.

Smooth auburn hair with not a single follicle out of place; chiseled (ironically, almost God-like) facial features; amber eyes staring at me with a mix of confusion, concern and thinly veiled annoyance.

Yep. This was undoubtedly the face of Light Yagami - number one Kira suspect - and I'd just walked right into his beautiful backside.

Well shit.

"Are you alright?" He asked gently, brows furrowing as he noticed the alarmed expression on my face.

I was shaken by this sudden confrontation and everything I'd prepared to say to him vanished from my mind. " _Erm_. Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks."

To him, I must've seemed like one of his female classmates who trembled in his presence, getting all hot under the collar over his ravishing good looks. What he didn't know is that I was really panicking and inwardly screaming at my lack of awareness.

Light was not convinced. "Your hands are bleeding." He stated, making me glance towards my hands to see dots of blood scattered across my palms, seeping with red.

"Oh! So they are. No matter, I've had worse." I said passively, rubbing my hands together to get the dirt and gravel off my hands, ignoring the stinging sensation that followed. I noticed that he was still watching me, somewhat expectantly, then I realised that I still hadn't apologised.

"I'm sorry for walking into you there. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going." I said, letting an uneasy chuckle pass my lips, mentally kicking myself.

"It's fine, really," he replied with a warm smile, checking his watch. "I think we ought to go in. The ceremony starts soon."

Not really in a position to argue, I smiled and nodded and began to reluctantly walk in stride with him, alarm bells still ringing in my ears. As we made our way through the doors, I cast him wary glances, feeling extremely on edge.

I am in so much trouble. Seriously, I feel as though I'm self destructing into a puddle of sweat! I don't even know what to say or how to act. I still have absolutely nothing prepared in my jumbled mind.

Fuck! If he asks for my name-

"So, if you don't mind me asking, who are you? I've never seen you before - not even in the exam hall. Are you going to attend To-Oh?"

Damn it. Jinxed myself.

Masking my worry behind a grin, I tilted my head to face the boy and said, "I'm Katherine and, yes, I will be attending. I'm transferring from America, so I took the test at a different time to the Japanese students, which is why you don't recognise me." I lied easily and Light seemed to believe me.

"Light Yagami. Nice to meet you." He returned, nodding his head in a polite gesture, which I mimicked. "You said you came from America?" When I nodded, he continued, "That makes sense, I suppose. You don't look native to Japan, and I did think your Japanese was a bit slow."

No. Way. He did not just say that.

I forced out a laugh and grudgingly agreed with him, claiming that I was still working on it, though inside I was fuming. _How dare he_! My Japanese was excellent. It's just that I was in a very stressful position and it was hard to get my words out. You know, Light's lucky that he has the looks of a Greek god because his manners were fucking hideous.

Light apparently noticed the sour undertone to my laugh as his face shifted into one of remorse. "That wasn't meant to offend you, but I apologise if I did." He spoke in a sorry tone, his eyes softening.

Personally, I didn't buy the puppy dog face act (I'd seen it from Chris enough times), but I had to respect the fact that he at least had the courtesy to apologise. In spite of my usual myself, I forgave him.

"Are you self taught?" The student further questioned, probably seeking to praise me to make up for his previous comments.

Moving my head in the affirmative, I replied, "I am."

Light raised his brows. "Your accent is considerably impressive."

I rolled my eyes. Well, colour me flattered. "Thank you."

Man, this conversation was so stilted. Maybe I should use that pickup line that Chris suggested.

Before I had the chance, however, Light spouted out yet another criticism. "To be honest, I'm quite surprised that you got into this university. You must be rather intelligent, particularly if you don't originate from Japan. To-Oh don't often accept foreign students."

A smirk curling my features, I was more than ready to boast about my substansial amount of knowledge but, when I directed my gaze to face Light, I noticed that something about his face had changed. It was a subtle change but I noticed regardless. His lips were pulled into a firm, thin line; the skin around his eyes stretched taut; his amber orbs hardened with scrutiny as though I was another one of his equations made to solve.

Oh, he's onto me. My God. He _knows_.

Keeping my eyes securely trained on him, I pushed each ends of my lips up to form a simple smile, trying to not appear put off. "I like to believe that I’m an intellectual. After all, why would I be here otherwise?" I said quietly, as modestly as I could muster, not wanting to evoke more unwanted suspicion.

I didn't have a chance to see Light's reaction as we'd finally made our way into the main hall where the sea of bustling people were now taking their seats. Desperate to get away, I scanned the mass of people in search of familiarity and my eyes pinpointed a mop of blonde sat on the front row. Relief hit me like a ton of bricks. Oh thank god for that.

Okay, let's make this farewell sweet and simple.

Stopping dead in my tracks, I turned to face the student; he did the same. There was a brief pause as we sized each other up, maintaining a bright and happy appearance, but inwardly criticising the other's every move. I was the first to speak.

"Well then, I suppose I'll see you around, Light," I said politely, holding out one of my hands for him to shake. "Perhaps we can talk later."

My tone was suggestive enough to spike his interest and the boy gave me a sharp nod. "That sounds good. It was nice meeting you, Katherine." He then grasped my hand with his and shook it only once in a strong fluid motion - irritating the grazes that I had gained during my fight with the concrete. I hissed between my teeth at the sudden flutter of pain but refused to let it show. From the look in his eyes, Light appeared to know he was hurting me and purposefully tightened his grip, before relinquishing my hand and flashing me a charming - notably fake - smile.

"It was nice meeting you too." I said quickly, immediately walking off and leaving him stood there, more than eager to leave that boy's presence.

 _Phew_. Done! Just like ripping off a very socially awkward bandaid.

Rubbing my sore hand, I made my way down the aisle and moved to sit in the front row a few seats away from my Chris, who shuffled over the few seats between us to speak.

"Okay, what the fuck was that?" He hissed loudly to me as I settled in my chair. "Why were you talking to Yagami already? I thought we'd discussed that we'd do that together, A."

Keeping my gaze planted on the stage - where I could see L watching me with questioning eyes (obviously he'd seen me walk in with Light) - I responded, "I walked - quite literally - into him after you waltzed off and left me on my own."

Chris' stare didn't falter. "And?"

"Well, I couldn't exactly walk away, could I? I had to apologise. But Light, being the curious human being he is, got to blabbering." I ground out, clenching my jaw in anger. "That's not even the worst part, Chris." I lowered my tone and turned to face my friend, worry flickering in my eyes. "I think he knows he's being suspected."

The man frowned. "What do you mean?"

I slouched back in my seat with a sigh. "Honestly, I don't know what it was that I said; I didn't even bring up Kira! I was just trying to act like any other person would. I apologised for the accident and answered all of his questions with reasonable answers. There was nothing even remotely suspicious about me!" I told him heatedly, clenching my fists tightly on my lap, unaware that the skin on my knuckles had now turned white.

Chris, sensing my aggravation, took my hand and rubbed it comfortingly, holding it in a comfortable grip - the complete opposite to Light's painful hold. From the gesture, I realised I was getting wound up over what might ultimately be nothing and shook my head at my pettiness, releasing an uneasy laugh. Shaking off any former tension, I forced myself to take a deep breath before continuing.

"But the way he looked at me; the things that he said..." I paused, my voice caught in my throat, as I saw that the boy in question was now sitting onstage. A brilliant beam of light shone down on his face, painting him like a celestial being among the likes of his fellow students, who dulled in comparison. He remained expressionless. Not buzzing with excitement. Not sweating with nerves. Everything about him screamed confidence and integrity - from the intense look on his face all the way down to his flawless clothes. If I hadn't been trembling in his presence mere minutes ago, I would've admired his poise. Now, I just felt intimidated.

Not wishing to draw his attention to me, I averted my eyes before we could make eye contact but I already knew he'd caught me staring. I could feel his gaze burning through my skin. Feeling somewhat threatened, I gulped down a breath and finished speaking. "I felt like the tables had been turned and suddenly _I_ was the interrogatee."

Chris released a quiet groan, casting a frustrated look in the direction of Light Yagami, only the boy was no longer looking in our direction. "Shit." He muttered under his breath. "This makes things ten times harder."

Before he could protest further, a speaker onstage announced that the ceremony was about to began. I swiftly yanked my hand away from Chris' and we both left our discussion there, settling back in our appointed seats. The guy onstage gushed on and on about how honoured they were to accept the new students and how they were so excited for the good things to come (you know, all that generic load of crap). Time went by and I admit that I found myself getting pretty bored. Thankfully, this didn't last too long as Light was called centre stage to give his freshman address.

I watched with intent as Light announced himself as present and stood, stepping towards the foot of the stage. Even now, in his shining moment, I couldn't take any specific emotion coming from him other than dead seriousness. He just remained completely neutral. That being said, he did seem to be one who took his education very earnestly - as I could tell from his many, many hours staying up and studying. Regardless, you'd have think he'd be the slightest bit happy, if not proud, to be representing the whole of his freshman class. He's a strange kid.

I was dragged from my thoughts by the speaker, who gestured to the student perched on his chair and declared, "And our second freshman representative: Hideki Ryuga."

My eyes widened in surprise and I very nearly gaped at L's audacity, the crowd surrounding me sporting a similar reaction. As the joke set in, I had to bite down on my tongue, straining myself to hold back the laughter bubbled up in my throat. Of all the names he could have chosen, he decided to pick the alias of the hot Japanese idol? This makes my day- no, actually, this makes my entire week! Chris glanced around, confused, not understanding why myself and the other Japanese civilians were so shocked. Poor him, he doesn't get it.

'Hideki' made himself known and clambered to his feet, shuffling along behind Light as they walked up to the microphones that were set up for their joint speech.

Light went first and, being perfect at everything he does, he read the speech flawlessly. He spoke with perfect articulation and flow, managing to not even stutter once. The detective, however, remarkably failed at the art of public speaking (which amused me to no end), reading the script with very scarce emotion in his voice. Chuckling at the detective as he finished his monotonous mumbling, the freshman presentation was declared over and the pair sat down in their designated seats - which were coincidentally right in between me and Chris.

I was seated beside L and Light beside Chris. Deciding now was as good a time as any to observe Light's reactions, I covered the right side of my face with my hair to avoid being caught staring, and peered through the strands. I noticed that Chris was doing the same, and we both listened attentively.

Much to my confusion, L immediately started up a conversation while he sat there, perched on his chair like an owl - no fucks given about his public appearance and the fact he was obstructing the view of the poor souls sat behind him. Something that shocked me more was the fact that the conversation was based around all the information we had on Light thus far. L cheerfully prattled on about Light's ambition to becoming a police officer after he graduates, how he already had experience by assisting in police cases in the past (something I didn't know), his strong sense of justice, and his desire to join the Kira investigation. Yeah, so much for the _discreet_ approach.

If I were Light, I'd be feeling pretty darn anxious by now. And if I were Kira, I'd be so paranoid that I'd flee the building, screaming. But that's just me. Actually, Light appeared to be taking it rather well, merely sitting there as calm and composed as ever. I respected that.

"I'm thoroughly impressed by your abilities, Light Yagami." The detective said breezily, not seeming to care about how suspicious Light was becoming of this whole situation. "If you promise not to tell anyone about this, I have important information concerning the Kira investigation that I'd like to share with you."

"I won't tell anyone. What is it?" Light muttered, sounding remarkably unfazed.

Ah, do you hear that? The alarm bells are ringing again.

I let out a light cough to try and avert L's attention to me so that I could slap some sense into him, to no avail. I knew he'd heard me but was blatantly choosing to ignore me. _Rude._ After that, I didn't bother to persist; there had to be a reason for him acting the way he is. Perhaps he has some great master plan that he didn't tell us about.

The detective inched closer to the student, lowering his voice to a thin whisper.

"I want to tell you that I'm L."

Forget alarm bells, I could hear fucking fog horns now!

The muscles in my face locked in panic and I had to bite down hard on my lip to stop myself from screaming. Why even bother with aliases and fake IDs if he was going to do something as rash as this? _Idiot_!

Composing myself, I held my gaze on Light and saw his appearance hadn't changed in the slightest. Seriously? What does it take for this kid to give some kind of response? He's like a statue.

"If you are who you say you are, then you have nothing but my respect and admiration." Light said automatically, little to no emotion in his tone, almost as if he had rehearsed this.

L clearly did not care, but thanked him anyway. "The reason I chose to reveal my identity to you is because I think you could be of some help to us on the Kira investigation."

Oh, _yeah_. Let's ask the suspect to help us catch the man he's suspected to be. That won't be counterproductive. Honestly, where was L even going with this? This is getting us nowhere.

After that comment, no one spoke a word until the presentation had ended. Light, still persevering in keeping his impassive mask planted on his face, drifted off in thought. Chris and I were both still screaming in terror at what we'd just witnessed. L, who I hope was fucking pleased with himself, shifted on the balls of his feet to get into what seemed to be a more comfortable position and continued watching the stage.

We were all permitted to leave after a cheesy farewell from the speaker onstage and I was quick to stand, wobbling due to the combination of stiff legs and rocky shoes. Chris briskly walked over to me, barging past the pair sat in between us, and led me out of the hall with my hand gripped in his.

As soon as we were out of the stuffy hall, Chris released my hand and began pacing back and forth whilst I buried my head in my hands. Fortunately for us, we'd managed to push past the majority of the crowd and had tucked ourselves behind the side of the building, allowing ourselves a few brief moments of privacy.

"Christ almighty, did you hear him? What the hell does he think he's doing?" He whispered loudly, clearly exasperated.

I brought my head out of my palms and crossed my arms across my chest. "Honestly, I'm just as confused as you are. He didn't mention any of this to me. I don't really understand what tactic he's using or why. It all just seems so pointless." I told him, raising a hand to my chin in thought. "Maybe he's doing it to elicit a response?" I offered.

Chris nodded slowly. "Maybe. I _hope_ that's his reasoning." Then he shook his head violently. "I still don't get it! He wants us to be sneaky about the whole set up but then he comes out with a move like that? What's wrong with him?"

As he spoke, a muffled noise coming from the entrance tugged at my ears, getting increasingly louder as time progressed. I peeked around the corner we were stood behind and saw that people had now began flooding through the doors and were way within ear shot to easily hear my friend yelling.

"I don't know Chris, but I do know that you need to chill out. People are outside now." I said urgently, placing a comforting hand on his forearm as I stared over my shoulder.

He spun around to confirm my statement and saw that I was right. Chris leant against the wall and took deep breaths to cool off as I scanned the large sea of people, trying to locate my favourite murder suspect. After all, I may have already had an interaction with Light, but I hadn't achieved my desired goal of asking him about Kira. I was determined to do it before we left.

It wasn't long before I spotted Light among the crowd, speaking to the detective as he climbed into the back of his car. They conversed for a short while before the detective closed the car door, driving off and leaving the boy standing there. From this perspective, I spotted the perfect opportunity.

"Hey." I said to the tall blonde stood leaning beside me, nudging him in the shoulder. "Light's right over there."

Chris whirled his eyes towards the young student and groaned. "Do we have to? I haven't even spoken to this kid directly and I already hate him. Such an arrogant dickbag."

By this point, I was so sick of rolling my eyes, but did so anyway. "Come on, we have to do what we were sent here to do otherwise this whole day will end up being a huge waste of time. Besides, I said that I'd talk to him later and now I have the chance. Let’s go."

I practically dragged him across the courtyard, squeezing past the many people congratulating the freshmen students and grinning politely at anyone who caught my eye. As we crossed the square, I made quick business of straightening out my clothes and dusting off any visible specks. I wanted this encounter to be in _my_ favour this time, and did not want to come across as feeble. I was not a weak-willed person and I'd be damned if someone like Light Yagami viewed me this way.

I would not stumble over my words. I would not pause or hesitate. I would tear through Light's facade and, so help me, I _would_ get a reaction out of him.

"Show time." Chris hummed, circling an arm around my waist, allowing his hand to brush against my hip just enough that it looked natural. We were ready.

"Hey, Light." I said cheerfully as we approached him, snapping him out of his reverie. He pretended to act surprised (the way in which his eyes widened so suddenly was a dead giveaway) and smiled pleasantly at us both.

"Katherine." He greeted warmly in return, his line of sight switching from my face to the man I was held against.

Risking a glance, I looked up to my friend and saw Chris' eyes were flaring with unprecedented loathing. Was he acting as the overprotective oyfriend or did he really just hate this kid that much? Probably both if I had to hazard a guess.

Light did the awkward eyebrow raise thing as he looked towards my boyfriend and I soon realised my mistake.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Where are my manners?" I spluttered, laughing it off and blaming my doziness on jetlag. "Light, this is my boyfriend, Jacob." I said, gesturing towards Chris and looking up at him with the most doting look that I could muster. "He's here to keep me company until I've finished my course." I explained, leaning into his side. Chris reciprocated my motions by tightening his grip on my waist - though not painfully so - and beaming down at me, merriment twinkling in his eyes.

"Jacob, this is Light. He's the boy I bumped into earlier." I repeated my previous gesture, only this time directing my hand towards Light

Like we'd done earlier, the pair nodded their heads at each other as a sign of greeting and shook hands like true gentlemen.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Light spoke, acting pleasantly fake.

"You too," Chris responded, grinning darkly.

Yep, he's definitely going for the protective boyfriend approach.

"Congratulations on being freshman representative. Your family must be proud." I commended him, trying to worm my way into his good books.

"Thank you. They are." He replied with a cocky little grin (clearly enjoying the praise). Knowing that this was a positive sign, I deepened the conversation.

Over the years, I'd learned that if you get people to talk about things they love and show interest in it, you're more likely to influence them. Needless to say, that's exactly what I did. We discussed random topics for a bit:  various university degrees; the difference in our two cultures; we even briefly brought up our favourite food and hobbies. I did most of the talking, with Chris pitching in every now and then, and we managed to hold a conversation for a decent twenty minutes. I could've talked for longer but I could sense Light's impatience and knew for a fact that L would be making a reappearance soon, so I chose to bring up Kira whilst I still had a chance.

"So, Light, I've got a pretty serious question and I hope it doesn't sound too strange." I lowered my tone, looking around with a cautious eye, as though I was concerned someone could overhear. "Obviously, we've heard about Kira and the murders - I mean, who hasn't?"

When Light nodded in understanding, his eyes lighting up with something akin to intrigue, I continued. "Apparently it all started in Japan. Is that true?" I questioned, tilting my head.

"Yeah, it's true."

Wow. That was blunt.

"Really? How do you know?"

Of course, I was already aware of how we knew Kira was in Japan, but I asked regardless.

"The first of Kira's murders was a Japanese criminal and his crime was only broadcasted in Japan. Naturally, this points towards him being in Japan."

"Oh, wow." I gasped, acting shocked. "That's so surreal."

He nodded. "It definitely hits close to home. Sometimes it makes me feel as though I'm constantly having to watch my back."

I hummed, not appreciating the message behind his words, and withstood the impulse to glare at his smug little face. I was not afraid of Light Yagami and I was going to prove that.

"Well, he's someone to look out for then." Chris stated jokingly, breaking the tension, as a loud car horn emitted from behind us.

I twisted my head to see a blue sedan parked along the nearby pavement, sunlight reflecting off its tinted windows. That was Chris' car. Yes!

"Ah, shoot, that's our ride." I sighed with faux disappointment. "We've gotta run. I'll see you some other time then, Light." I spoke as Chris wrapped an arm around my shoulders, briskly leading me away.

"I'm sure you will." He said, giving me one final smile and waving us off. Not liking that tone of voice - or the implication of his words - I sped up.

That was not a fun conversation. Not at all. The way Light acted definitely gives us reason to suspect him. He talks as though Kira is an inside joke to him, always speaking with hidden meanings underlying his words. It's honestly quite worrying.

We both clambered into the back seat of the car, releasing a collective sigh of relief. I sank further into my seat, closing my eyes and feeling a wave of relaxation flow over me as the car started moving.

"So, how did it go?" A voice asked us from the front seat, dragging me back to the harsh reality.

Completely baffled, I snapped my eyes back open and sat up in my seat.

"I thought you were going back to the hotel." I asked, eyes narrowing into a frown, completely ignoring the man's previous question.

"Yes. That was the plan, but I decided I didn't want to spend any more time with Matsuda than was obligatory. We merely switched cars before driving back here to collect you."

He lifted something from his lap and showed me a sealed white box. "We also got cake."

I rolled my eyes. Of course he did.

"So, I'll ask again - how did it go? Did you get any reaction from him?" L asked, to which I shook my head in disappointment.

"Nothing of significance." I forced out, watching his face drop. "I don't know what it is about him. He's just so calm, so austere. Every emotion of his seems controlled. It's like nothing surprises him."

As I said that, a nagging thought suddenly popped into my head. "Oh yeah, and while we're on the topic of surprises, can I ask what that stunt you pulled earlier was all about? Don't you think it's a little risky? I mean, if he is Kira, he now knows what you look like and that gives him a huge advantage."

"Life is not without risk, Agent." He reminded me. "However, this was not a risk; this was a calculated move. My intention was to provoke Light Yagami but that didn't seem to work according to plan. Even so, if he is Kira, Light Yagami does not know my real name. I'm perfectly safe."

Personally, I disagreed with him but chose not to voice my opinion, instead looking down to the car floor.

L may claim that he's protected by his ambiguity, but I believe that he's just made a grave error. Killers - especially smart ones - always have ways to get what they want. A name is not that hard to be obtained. If Light Yagami truly is Kira, then L may have just inadvertently moved himself into the Check position. This was only the first nail in his coffin.

* * *

"Man, today has been so exhausting." I moaned, kicking off my heels at the hotel room door and doing a run and jump straight into Chris' bed, not even caring that I face-planted the sheets.

"Want a drink?" My friend offered, holding up a bottle of bourbon and taking out two shot glasses that he bought as souvenirs from Malta.

" _God_ , yes please." I sighed into one of his pillows, pushing myself into a sitting position.

Chris handed me my drink and plonked himself next to me, stretching his legs along the length of his bed. The musky scent of the alcohol making my nose tingle. I glanced down at the golden hue of the liquid that rimmed my glass and glanced back up to my friend, a look of unease present on my face.

"He knows."

"He suspects." Chris corrected, knocking back his glass and pulling a face as the liquid scathed his throat.

"He _knows_." I repeated, adamant. "Come on, Light's not stupid. We know that. He's put two and two together by now and figured out we're investigating him, hence why his reactions were so contrived. It makes perfect sense."

Chris nudged me with his leg and began pouring himself a second glass. "A, just drop it. Regardless of whether he knows he's a suspect not, it's not going to stop him from acting the way he does. You said it yourself - he's a master of self control. He won't let any emotion slip past him."

"Which is precisely the problem!" I argued, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "If Light is Kira - something we're unable to tell, because he's so goddamn impassive - and he's aware that we're onto him, there's no doubt in my mind that he's going to do something about it. He'll take every necessary precaution, which might result in more needless deaths. And you're seriously trying to tell me to drop it?"

The man nodded, unfazed, telling me in a low voice, "Yes, because there's nothing we can do about it right now. So calm down and drink your bloody drink before I do."

Shaken by his boldness, I did as I was told, shaking my head grimly as I did so.

"You're impossible." I grumbled, tipping the glass against my lips and swallowing the shot, cringing at its taste.

Chris laughed and poured me another shot. "That's the spirit! Here," he said, handing me my glass and holding his own up in the air. "Cheers!"

"What are we toasting to?"

The man paused in thought. "To... _not dying yet_?"

Not expecting a reply like that, I snorted, clinking my glass against his. "Sure, I'll drink to that. Here's to not dying yet!"

Against my better judgement, we spent the rest of the night drinking like fish. We remained ignorant to our level of alcohol consumption and merely enjoyed ourselves for the first time in what seemed like months, laughing and cracking jokes together like we'd always done.

If I'd known at the time that it would be the last time I'd share a drink with my friend, I think I would've cherished it more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t you just love cliffhangers??
> 
> Remember to leave kudos and drop a comment or two guys! They’re very motivating to see :)


	7. Chapter Six

The sun had barely scraped the top of the city's skyscrapers when I was jostled awoke the next morning. There I was, curled up on the bed and sleeping like a log, when a loud rendition of _Everybody_ by the Backstreet Boys began blaring into my sensitive ears.

My body jumped to attention, shooting upright in panic, and I immediately wished I hadn't moved. Shocking pain spiked my temple and I was forced to cover my eyes from the piercing ray of white light that cascaded over the bedsheets. With a long and mournful groan of realisation and an overwhelming sense of regret, I slumped against the headboard and rubbed the sides of my head in circular motions, trying to relieve the tension there.

Say it with me kiddos, all together now - I am never drinking bourbon again. _Fuck_. _That_.

The morning had come way too quickly for my preference and all I really wanted was to curl up into ball and sleep the pain away. However, upon turning over, I was greeted by a tuft of shaggy blonde hair and instantly recoiled, heart racing in surprise.

_Oh hell no._

Not even the strongest amount of alcohol could get me drunk enough to let Chris - of all people - sleep with me. Just no. That's almost like committing incest, and I am a good girl; I only break laws regarding confidentiality (and now also privacy apparently. Yeah, thanks L).

Just to be absolutely sure that I hadn't abandoned my good sense of morality during last night's drunken haze, I shuffled where I sat and felt fabric shift against my skin, breathing a sigh of relief. I carefully lifted the sheets and checked Chris' state, seeing that, like myself, he was still tucked up in his clothes from the night before. Boy, he must be sweltering. I carefully peeled off his jacket and discarded it somewhere with a lazy toss, before adjusting the sheets from around his neck and tucked it under him so that only his legs were being smothered.

Once I was convinced that my friend wouldn't overheat and thus die of dehydration, I tried (the key word here being _tried_ ) to walk. Sadly gravity was not playing ball today, and I slumped onto my knees. Still too dozy to even stand, I managed to crawl across the room and hoist myself to my feet, turning on the coffee maker and pouring myself a cup, combining it with a handful of aspirin pills. Ah, _lovely_.

Gulping back the pills, I slouched against a nearby wall and slowly slid my back down it until I was sitting in a curled up heap on the floor. With my knees tucked into my chest and my head lolling on my arms, I sighed and began listing off my many bad decisions in life - starting with the previous night's affairs.

As I sat and sulked, wallowing in self pity at my mistakes, I flipped open my phone, flinching as the white screen glared back at me. The time on my screen read 10:15am. _Huh_.

The first coherent thought that my brain ever so helpfullly conceived for me was that the basketball game would be on soon and I'd miss it if I didn't turn on the TV, but then I suddenly remembered where I had to be in less than an hour.

The investigation.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Forget Kira, L was going to murder us first.

I instantly jumped to my feet, swaying slightly with the sudden movement, my body suddenly running on auto-pilot. Needless to say, I was panicking.

Although I didn't know L too well at that moment in time, I couldn't imagine he'd be happy with two very hungover detectives working on his case. I suppose we could try and pass off our behaviour as tiredness. The others would probably fall for it, but going against L was like going against the human lie detector. He'd figure it out as soon as we walked into the room, and then he'd verbally annihilate us. I could picture it now - him shaking his head in disappointment, glancing between us with judgemental eyes as though we were the scum of the earth, and saying something along the lines of:

" _And why did you feel the urge to consume such an unhealthy amount of alcohol on a night that you particularly needed your sleep? I offer no sympathy. Perhaps you should've thought twice before you acted so irrationally._ "

Oh yeah, can't wait for that. He's gonna be so pissed. As much as I'd love for the robot to show some emotion, I don't really think I want to be on the receiving end of his anger.

Risking another glance at the clock and seeing we only had forty minutes to get ready and get all the way to L's new residence - which was a considerable distance away from our own hotel - I decided that now was the ideal time to wake up the sleeping beauty that layed comotosed on the bed (rather unglamorously), limbs spread out like an awkward starfish that wanted a hug.

I took a step over to him, tilting my head as I decided which method I should use to wake him up. I suppose I could always wake him up in a friendly, affectionate way with smiles and tenderness and some much needed medication.

Then again, this was technically _his_ fault. He'd acted as the catalyst for the night's events. He was the one who whipped out the alcohol and suggested we have a drink. He was the reason my throat felt like the Sahara desert right now.

If I was to murder Chris right now, let's just say that my motive would definitely be _very_ clear.

My head snapped towards the back wall to see a very appealing empty glass and - _oh look_ \- a tap that runs cold water. It's a common known fact that one of the most effective hangover treatments is to hydrate the body, so that is exactly what I'll do.

The more sadistic side of my brain took control and I smirked to myself as I filled the glass to its brim with cold water. Though, I decided against putting ice cubes in it - that would be _too_ cruel.

Walking back over to the bed, I took one brief moment to admire the peaceful expression on Chris's face before tilting the cup, emptying its contents all over his body.

His reaction was, to state it simply, hilarious.

He jumped up almost instantly, arms flailing about, and let out a shriek - wow, _manly_ \- before snapping his head in my direction. His eyes narrowed and he pointed an accusing finger towards me and the now empty glass.

"What the fuck was that for, you demon?" He sneered, lip curling over his teeth.

"Good morning to you too, sweetheart." I said with a huge smile on my face, barely constricting a laugh. "I'm glad to see you're up and at it, soldier. It makes my next job a whole lot easier."

Chris did the same thing I did earlier and tried to sit up, only to slump back into the sheets with his hands grasping at his skull. Not wanting to bear witness to a repeat of my pathetic pity party routine, I grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Damn, my head's killing me." He moaned, clutching his temple and swaying as he tried to find his centre gravity. "What happened?"

A scoff left my throat. "Why don't you tell me?" I snapped, rifling through his chest of drawers and pulling out a red hoodie and pair of jeans for him to change into. "But don't worry, we didn't do the nasty, if that's what you were thinking. Even if my brain is on standby, my body know its boundaries." I said matter-of-factly, raising a finger to accentuate my point.

Blinking a few times, he let out a loud sigh of relief and sat back into the bed sheets, unfazed by the fact that they were still soaked through.

"Hey, don't get comfortable!" I snapped, tossing the clothes onto the bed. "You do realise we have to get to the task force in less than an hour, right?"

It took him about three to five seconds to process what I'd said, still cradling his head in his hands. When he did eventually come to his senses, he flung himself out of bed in a wild flurry and wasted no time in stripping down to his boxers in front of me - not that I cared.

"God, why didn't you wake me up sooner?" He asked, stumbling as he tugged his jeans over his feet.

Oh, so now he blames this on me?

Scowling, I crossed my arms, cocking a very unimpressed brow. "I thought you would've wanted your beauty sleep. You look like you need it."

He pulled an aghast expression, but didn't hesitate to spit out a comeback.

"You can talk. Looked at a mirror recently, gorgeous?" He said dryly, pulling off his shirt and slipping on the hoodie.

I paused. No, I hadn't.

Hoping that I didn't look too abysmal, I scampered over to the hotel vanity and examined myself in the mirror, shaking my head at the reflection of my ' _gorgeous_ ' face; my hopes were shattered. I was a complete and utter mess - much worse off than usual. Unacceptable. I was not walking into headquarters looking like a homeless drug addict with massive panda eyes. That is L's job.

"I'm taking a shower. You'd better be ready by the time I get out." I said to Chris as I walked by, voice stern, meaning I meant business.

Ignoring the string of protests that followed, I got undressed and discarded my clothes into a heap outside the door before turning the water on.

"Hey, that isn't fair!" He whined, banging on the wooden frame. "Why do you get a shower but I don't? I probably reek more than you do. Besides, you're the one using my shower right now. I should get to go first."

I rolled my eyes as I adjusted the temperature to my liking and stepped in, feeling my headache fade thanks to the steam. "First of all, my idea of a shower is five minutes. You're is about thirty - time we dont have to spare. Second of all, I need it more than you - I'm a woman! We have beauty standards to meet." Then quietly, more to myself than him. "And _unsavoury_ places to clean."

"Not a relevant excuse." He argued.

"Besides," I added, raking my nails through my wet hair, shaking water out of my eyes. "I just gave you a shower. Don't you feel refreshed?"

I heard him cuss from the other side of the door, followed by a loud huff of annoyance and heavy footfalls, signifying pacing. Usually, I would've taunted him further but I chose to ignore him for now, applying a considerable amount of shampoo to the many tangled knots in my hair.

Eventually the pacing stopped and I hear a sigh of defeat. "I'll just have to shower as soon as we get back then. But, seriously though, hurry up! Some of us actually want to use the bathroom for reasons other than to wash ourselves."

Realising what he was referring to, I hurried my pace and watered myself down, slipping out of the shower as soon as I was done. I could still hear Chris crying from outside the door like a kicked puppy as I wrapped a towel around my midriff, so I opened the door as soon as I considered myself decent. For the sake of my dignity, he turned a blind eyes to my partly exposed body and rushed straight for the toilet. I granted him his privacy and stepped out, closing the door behind me, ordering him to stay in there until I'd finished getting dressed.

It was at that moment, I found myself in a rather awkward scenario. I had no change of clothes. I estimated how long it would take for me to get all the way back up to my hotel room - which was two floors above Chris' - and even if I neglected the elevator and ran, I still would run out of time. Despairing, I let out a cry. _Fabulous_. Just what I needed!

I'd always hated the concept of wearing used closed. It was gross and lazy to just sit there, wearing your own stale sweat and dirt from the day before. It was a disgusting concept that reminded me of all the time I spent on the street where I had no choice but to neglect personal hygiene - another reason to hate the habit. In spite of that, today, I had no other option. That is, unless I wanted to wear one of Chris' oversized outfits and look like a young child trying to fit into their parent's clothes. Not really a good look for me, especially when I'm trying to come across as a serious adult.

Shaking off all restrictive thoughts, I dropped my towel and grabbed my clothes from the pile outside the bathroom door, reluctantly pulling on my bra and blouse, buttoning it up to my throat.

I then picked up my remaining article of underwear, cringing slightly.

It was either wear the same pair of panties I wore yesterday or go commando.

For a minute, I seriously considered not wearing anything, but quickly changed my mind when I realised the only over thing I had on offer to wear was my skirt. My _short_ skirt.

Nope. I will not go that far. That's just plain nasty.

With a shudder of disgust, I slipped on my underwear and pulled my skirt over my hips, before knocking on the bathroom door to inform Chris I was modest. As he entered the room and I picked up the hotel's complimentary hair dryer, I almost failed to hear Chris' snide comment over the loud whirring of the machine.

"God, you women take forever to get ready." He muttered as he passed me by, earning him a dirty look and a kick in the shin.

I watched him stumble around the room aimlessly as I dried off my hair, not caring to ask what it was he was looking so intently for. At last he turned to me, a lost and confused expression on his face.

"Hey, where's the aspirin?" He asked, rubbing his forehead as he continued to scan the area through blurry and bloodshot eyes.

I rolled my eyes and held back a sigh. Maybe he was still a bit drunk?

"On the table where I left it. You've looked over it twice now." I told him humorously, drying off the last few strands of my hair.

Ignoring my sarcasm, Chris staggered over and popped open the bottle, taking out two of the pills.

"I feel like crap." He told me, swallowing the pills dry (impressive), earning a quiet scoff from me.

"We both are. Now, come on, stop feeling sorry for yourself and get a grip. We've gotta go, otherwise they're gonna start wondering where we are."

He nodded glumly and pulled on his shoes, mumbling something about how I was the one taking my sweet time. Due to the fact Chris and I shared the same size feet, I borrowed - _stole_ \- a pair of his trainers, casting a hateful glance towards the pair of heels that lay discarded in the corner. Never again would I wear those. I didn't even care that I was wearing a weird combination of skirt and trainers with no socks. Heels were a definite no-no.

After double checking that I had everything I needed in my bag, I wrapped an arm around Chris' waist and helped him out of the door.

"Come on, Bambi." I joked, watching him trip every now and then. "Are you okay to drive?"

He shook his head grimly. "Hell no. You drive today. I'd rather risk a speeding ticket than death."

I ignored the backhanded comment and did as requested, getting us to L's hotel in the short space of ten minutes. Yes, it might have involved the breaking of a few laws, but it was for the greater good. If we catch Kira, no one will give a damn about how I drive.

Breezing into the hotel room, I greeted the task force with a grin, "Morning, everyone."

I got a handful of half hearted good mornings and one chipper response from Matsuda who smiled back at me. What a sweetie.

"You're later than usual." L commented as I took my seat, making me grind my teeth behind smiling lips.

He knew. _Oh boy_ , he definitely knew. It was like I said - he'd figure it out as soon as we walk through the door, and I was right. But who knows? There may be still a chance we're able to get away with it, just as long as we act serious. That can't be too hard.

I frowned at him. "We're not late." I clarified.

"I never said that. I said you're later than usual. Why so?" He asked, tilting his head.

"There was traffic downtown." I lied quickly, knowing no one would be able to argue otherwise, considering all the other officers live on the opposite side of the district and don't drive downtown.

The detective was appeased by this answer and dropped all interest in me. He went on to explain all that we'd discovered yesterday about Light Yagami and what our next moves should be regarding him.

I felt eyes on me as he spoke, and glanced over to the man whom they belonged to. The perpetrator quickly averted his gaze, blushing shamelessly, and I was left baffled. Looking over at the rest of the police officers, I noticed they had similar reactions, their eyes flickering between me and Chris. What in the-

Frowning, I checked myself over, thinking maybe a button on my shirt had come undone or there was something on my face. Seeing nothing was amiss, I quickly realised why.

My hair was tangled and matted; I was wearing the exact same clothes that I wore yesterday (minus the heels); it looked as though I'd barely slept (which in all truthfulness, I hadn't), and Chris and I were both conveniently 'later than usual'.

They thought we slept together, didn't they?

Well, whatever. I'll just let them believe what they want to believe. It's better than the alternative and it saves me the trouble of making up an excuse. After all, what kind of adult really wants to start up a conversation about the sex life of a teenager?

The birds and the bees talk does not count.

Sensing the rather obvious elephant in the room, L looked over to me, a dubious look crosing his usually vacant face. Unable to do much else - and knowing that it would do me no good to start getting worked up over the many pairs of eyes on me - I feigned innocence, keeping my expression void of any emotion, and stared right back him, almost daringly.

Start your stop watches; my death toll starts now.

* * *

 

Later, L had tasked me with searching through the new records of the criminals whom Kira had killed yesterday, looking for any connections between their times of deaths and Light's routinely schedule, taking into account the disruption of the freshman ceremony yesterday.

It seemed simple enough - _too_ simple - and that was what worried me.

Why would he give me a task like this when he's well aware that I'm capable of more? _Answer_ : he wouldn't, unless he was concerned that I'd mess something up. Why would he think that I'd mess something up? _Answer_ : because he knows I'm hanging out of my ass, that's why.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him watching me. He was really putting me off my task, despite it's simplicity, and I didn't appreciate that. Left with very few options, I made a blunt point of ignoring him, staring attentively at my computer screen like a kid with a television addiction.

If I just ignored him, he'd go away. That always seemed to work - namely on small children and dogs, but I'm sure the detective can fit into that category also.

L did as I had hoped, testing my limits by staring a few (painful) moments longer before turning away. I smirked, glad to receive the reaction I had hoped for.

Though, before I had a chance to properly celebrate my victory, a pen came flying my way and it hit me square in the face, not allowing me a chance to dodge. I jumped back, letting out a quiet gasp of surprise as my eyes searched for the culprit, anger bubbling up inside me. Three guesses who it was.

"Can I ask what that was for, Ryuzaki?" I ground out angrily, rubbing my nose to make a point.

"You're intoxicated." He stated - no longer speaking in Japanese, I noticed*.

Damn. This was bad.

"No, I'm not. What gave you that idea?" I asked, playing dumb.

He sighed through his nose, exasperation obvious, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world and I was completely oblivious to it. "Your posture is off. I've noticed over the past few months that you sit with a certain style; usually with your back taut and your shoulders tense. Today, you're slouching and your muscles are slack. And, as I've just proven, your reaction time is slow - hence why I threw the pen. If you don't mind, I'd appreciate if you explained the reason for your current state."

Double damn.

I may as well just surrender. He's pretty confident in his theory and there's no way I can convince him otherwise. Besides, I am the one in the wrong here, so I'll do the right thing in this instance.

Though, if I'm going down with the ship, I refuse to go down alone.

"He's the one who suggested it." I said defensively, pointing at Chris, who perked upon hearing his name and threw me a look of betrayal. I felt no shame; he dragged me into this whole mess so I'm just returning the favour.

The detective sent Chris a stern look and the poor man had no other choice than to get to his feet and accompany me in facing our executioner.

"Well, even if I suggested the drinking, you still had a choice. If I remember rightly, you were more than happy to take a drink - even saying please." He taunted, grinning at the expression I pulled after he revealed that, much to my humiliation.

"Yeah, but you made the propsal. You instigated the whole thing!"

"You're old enough to make your own decisions." He argued, still chuckling as he patted my head like a child. I glared but didn't snap anything back at him.

"Alright, fine. I apologise. It was very irresponsible of me to agree to drink with this senseless dolt." I said with a large (fake) smile on my face, trying to appear as earnest as possible. "It won't happen again, I assure you. This was just a one off."

Despite my excellent apology, L seemed unable to let the situation go, much to my annoyance. He huffed and stood up, gesturing for us to follow him. Reluctantly, we did so, exchanging looks of worry. To the other clueless task force members, we probably looked like guilty children being rounded off for a scolding but frankly, I couldn't care less right now.

He escorted us to the adjoining room, shutting the door behind me as we made our way in. Chris and I stood there, hands behind our backs, heads hanging low. Ryuzaki perched himself on a chair set up before us and watched us darkly. You know, you wouldn't think a man like him could be so intimidating, especially with the lack of shoes and wild badger appearance, but L was fucking doing it.

"Now, I want one of you to explain the reasoning for your current states or you won't be permitted back into that room."

My head snapped up in surprise and I immediately began to protest, "Ryuzaki, dont you think that's a little unreasonable?"

The man blinked at me. "No. I am being perfectly reasonable."

"I don't think you are. You would kick us off the task force for having a couple of drinks? That's crazy. We're both still compus mentis, we're able to get on with our work, and we're not providing any distractions."

That last point was debatable since nearly every man in the other room was still flaring at the cheeks at the scandalous thought of Chris and I getting our hump on, but that was irrelevant right now.

"So yeah, to be frank, I think you're being totally unreasonable." I finished, crossing my arms.

As you'd expect, L remained unmoved by my previous statements, watching me icily. I'd never seen such an aloof gleam in his eyes before, and it stumped me. Half of the time, he was always acting withdrawn and remote, but this took the ' _I'm antisocial and unfriendly, don't talk to me_ ' thing to a whole new level.

There was a beat of silence. I shuddered, and then he spoke.

"Tell me, Agent. How much did you have to drink last night?"

My body froze. That was not a question I was expecting to be asked, seeing as it wasn't really all that relevant in the current circumstance. I was completely thrown off guard. Why would he need to ask? Did it even matter? Well, of course it mattered. If L questions something, then it's pretty damn significant. He wouldn't waste his breath if it wasn't for a purpose.

Shaking off all elements of surprise, I recovered my confident front and chose my words carefully.

"Not too much," was my response. "A _reasonable_ amount." I added with a wry smile.

To be honest with myself, I couldn't even remember how much I'd drunk. It was just one shot, then another, and then another. In fact, I'm surprised I kept it all down; my alcohol tolerance isn't the greatest. However, I didn't let L in on any of this. It would just give him more reason to scold me.

"Considering that you were drunk enough to have forgotten how much you consumed, I'd say more than the recommended dose." The detective replied breezily, and I practically choked.

" _How_ -?!"

"You understand the severity of this situation. If you could remember how much you'd had to drink, you'd have given me a number." He pointed out. "Even if you couldn't remember exactly how much you'd consumed - which is understandable - you'd have provided me with an estimate. You didn't, meaning you're either avoiding giving me a direct answer out of spite, or you simply cannot remember. I would hope that the former isn't the case as that would be terribly rude, so I'm more inclined to believe the latter is true."

Busted. _Again_.

I huffed and forced my eyes down, lips curling into an beast-like snarl, nasty and malicious. It was inevitable that he'd catch us out. I don't even know why I'm so shocked. Like I said, he's the literal human lie detector. The odds of lying to him and getting away with are slim; very slim indeed.

"For one so intelligent, your lack of discernment is worrying. I don't think I need to inform you that what you're doing is unhealthy."

I scoffed. "Oh, that's rich coming from you. You're not exactly the embodiment of good health."

The detective raised a brow. "I never claimed to be in prime condition myself, but that doesn't justify the reasoning behind your actions. Consuming alcohol in such great quantities is self destructive; it's severely damaging to your immune system, and compromises your ability to think clearly. I will not allow detectives who mistreat themselves in such a way to jeopardise my investigation."

 _Jeopardise_? Did he honestly think that we'd somehow screw the investigation over because we were a bit tipsy? Sure, alcohol can cloud one's better judgement (that much is obvious) but in this scenario, I doubt that'd lead to anything drastic. We're surrounded by fresh intellectual minds that have experience with murder cases. If one person makes a claim, the others can consult it. If that person is wrong, the claim is dropped. No harm done.

L just needed to wake up, cut the melodramatics, and smell the hoard of coffee cups that surrounded him.

"Nothing we do in life is particularly healthy. Nearly every choice we make comes with a consequence." I argued, anger crackling under my skin like lightning. I really shouldn't have been provoking an argument with the man who decided my future on this case, but each word he said made my stomach twist with annoyance; slowly and steadily building my temper until it burst. "You know, the amount of stress you're putting on those officers' shoulders isn't healthy in the slightest, so don't start pretending that you care about our wellbeings now!"

As I ranted on, I felt a hand brush my shoulder. Gently, a voice spoke near my ear, "Maybe you should calm down."

Scowling, I shrugged the hand off, reeling my head to face the speaker. "And maybe you should shut up, Chris! You started this anyway."

I was beginning to realise how much I sounded like a kid throwing a tantrum, directing the blame at anyone but myself, but I was past caring. I was livid by this point.

A small part of me worried that I would be kicked off this case for this outburst alone. It shook and cried out at me to stop inciting this argument for the sake of - what was I even fighting for again? - _pride_. The other part of me had been bottled up for so long that it wanted me to press on, desperately needing to get through to the detective and show him how hugely irrational he was being.

Yeah, we made a mistake. A pretty stupid and easily avoidable mistake, but a mistake all the same. That's what humans are programmed to do - mess things up, face the fire, and learn from it. I was not going to get punished for adhereing to the basic dictations of human nature. Just because the detective had the emotional capacity of teaspoon didn't mean everyone else had to as well.

Chris narrowed his eyes at me, reverting to whack me across the shoulder instead. "Hey, don't get pissy with me just because you're the one having to fess up!"

"Mr Doyle," L intercepted, sensing the increasing tension in the room. "I think it's better if we allow Agent to calm down before saying anything provocative. It's much more likely to rile her up, and I believe this room is too small to start brawling in."

At that, I glanced around briefly. _Pfft_ , it wasn't that small. He was just worried that if I was to start kicking off that he'd be the first one punched.

"Furthermore, I don't consider it fair to single out one individual when the two of you are equally to blame for your actions. And in any case, I do believe you are the one with the problem."

Chris pulled a face of great offence. "Okay, now that _is_ rude. Come on, man, I had your back here."

"I'm not referring to last night solely."

The pair of us glanced at each other, my face expressing confusion and his expressing very thinly veiled panic. What has he done now?

"From what I've read on your files, I can infer that this isn't the first instance that you've been drinking excessively."

I eyed my friend warily, seeing the minuscule beads of sweat break across his brow.

They actually wrote that down? Not only that, they let other people read it? Well, there's a snake if I ever saw one.

From the alarmed look in his eyes, it was easy to tell that Chris was struggling to formulate a good response. I couldn't decide whether I was enjoying the fact it was him who was in the spotlight now, or whether I felt bad for him. This was a touchy issue, one that I'd been subjected to talk about before, and I knew the effects it had on my friend. I didn't want to see a repeat of that - not when he's already so stressed.

"Well," Chris began, licking his chapped lips to moisten them. "You see-"

"In fact, your benefactors have labelled it as a recurring problem. Is that the case?"

The man stumbled further, his eyes darting around the perimeter of the room as if searching for the answer. "I wouldn't really say it's a problem-"

"It's a simple yes or no answer, Mr Doyle."

L was getting impatient now. It was plain too, although not because he was interrupting. From what I'd witnessed previously, he loved interrupting people, particularly if said person was making a stupid and pointless comment (nine times out of ten, this person was Matsuda). So, to be fair, the fact that he was cutting Chris off wasn't all that surprising.

The telltale sign that he was losing his patience was the fact that he'd stopped fidgeting. L acted like a kid. Despite his constant display of lethargy and complete lack of effort to do even the most basic of things, his fingers would always be active. It seemed every burst of energy within his body zipped towards the cells in his fingertips and, considering how much sugar he consumed on a daily basis, I'd say he had a lot of energy at his disposal.

But now, each spindly index remained planted firmly at his side, no longer twitching as if to seek out a keyboard to type on, or a boiled sweet to unwrap; nor did they grope along his lower lip in a way that seemed hugely unhygienic.

He was just motionless. In my eyes, this was worrying.

My friend, however, was the complete opposite of his questioner. It seemed that his anxiety had reared its ugly head and rudely scooched into the pilot's seat, forcing Chris' body to react as if in a panic. His fingers fiddled, scrabbling for purchase against the rough fabric of his jeans, unable to lie still. I glanced up towards his face with pity, watching as unfocused eyes dragged along the perimeter of the room before plummeting towards the ground in shame. His throat constricted with every breath as he gulped incessantly, sucking in air through dry lips.

"Yes." He answered finally, his voice so meek that even I struggled to make out the single syllable (and I was standing right next to him).

The tone of his sheepish voice made my chest lurch with guilt and all I wanted was to take my friend into my arms and steal him away from this conversation, as I knew very well where it was headed. Very soon, the whole truth would come out; quickly followed by judgement; angry tears; a heated argument, and then likely concluded with us getting removed from this case.

Maybe dragging him down with me and my sinking ship was a bad idea after all...

After a brief pause, the detective inquired, "Have you ever considered rehabilitation?"

And there it was - the trigger that set us off on a downward spiral. We're off to a good start.

Despite how often he'd been- actually, how often _we'd_ both been in this exact same situation before, Chris still looked over to me in a silent plea for help, but it was virtually impossible for me to look at him without completely breaking down. Silently, I evaded his gaze, pretending to be more concerned with a single loose thread dangling off the hem of my blouse. I didn't notice, but his face crumbled, betrayal etched across his features.

Mumbling through tight lips, he replied, "It's been recommended to me on occasion."

"Well then, I think it's best that you start to listen to these recommendations, particularly if you want a future in this investigation."

I puffed out my cheeks as I released a pent-up breath. The comment wasn't even aimed at me but I still felt the blow.

"I can ask Watari to have a word with you about potential options if you're unsure." The detective added quickly.

Chris waved his hands passively. "No. No, I'm good. I need to just..." he hesitated, looking downwards as if the floor held the answer. "Just let me have a minute."

No further questions were asked as the man crossed the room. L was apparently satisfied with that response and didn't push for a clearer answer. I, however, didn't share his sentiments.

The sudden turn of events - as predictable as they were - made me feel physically unwell. All sorts of horrible feelings settled in my stomach; it was nothing like the nervous sensation of butterflies flitting along my interior, but rather like someone had installed a winding mechnism in my chest, pulling my insides tighter and tighter with every passing moment.

Guilt and shame were working together in one destructive union to channel my emotions and make me feel worse off than I already did, which wasn't very difficult. Truthfully, I don't know what it was that made me feel worse: the fact that I'd known about his issues for so long and allowed it to get to this stage; or the fact that I refused to support him in a decision that he clearly didn't want to make - even if it was in his best interests.

In a few years from now, if the dictionary ever required a definition for _terrible friend_ , they could just put my face right there and that'd sum it up perfectly.

Chris' face was ashen and blank, completely drained of any colour or spirit. As if this didn't hurt enough to see already, he outright refused to make eye contact with me, even when I offered him a supportive smile as he passed by. A sharp twinge of sadness plucked at my heartstrings and I forced my gaze downwards, feeling the familiar swell of sorrow weigh on my chest. The door closed with a soft click, and I could hear muffled footfalls retreating into the next room - where I knew a handful of questions were going to be asked by the group of curious officers.

My teeth ground together in a mix of anger and self-loathing in knowing that I was partly responsible for the events that were inevitably due to follow.

"Don't you think that was a bit harsh, L?"

"It was necessary."

My eyes narrowed, and I firmly shook my head. "No. Telling him he needed help was necessary, but making him feel like shit wasn't."

"It got my point across - which was the desired end result."

I could feel my willpower begin to dissolve, and it took all my self restraint not to scream and start throwing the expensive hotel property across the room. Slowly but surely, the walls of my resolve were cracking, exposing a violent nature that I'd long kept at bay. My body twitched.

"Is that all you care about?" I breathed out, disbelief clouding my eyes. "How to get from point A to point B with the least amount of effort?"

If L had the capablility to be offended, I'm almost sure he would've been. "No. I care about your friend's health, which is why I'm offering him my help. Alcohol is a strong addictive and even people with the strongest of willpowers struggle to become sober."

"Caffeine's an addictive yet you still drink coffee." I pointed out boldly, earning myself a rather disgruntled look in response.

"I'm not addicted."

 _I beg to differ_ , I thought as I scanned the many coffee stained mugs lined up like soldiers along the table edge.

"Well neither is Chris." My voice came out strained; unconvincing. "He just likes a drink every now and then. It's not _wrong_."

The argument was weak. Even I didn't believe a word that was coming out of my mouth. But I refused to let someone slander my friend and then play it off as though their treatment is supposed to be helpful. ' _Tough love_ ' is such a bullshit concept. If you have to be firm with someone, be firm with them, but don't try and flip the situation on its head to make you seem like a better person who's only being callous to suit another's best interests. Regardless of how pure your intentions may be, you can't be both cruel and kind at the same time; that's why they're antonyms. Anyone who says otherwise is kidding themselves.

"For someone so intelligent, you're remarkably unobservant."

I bit back a sigh, opting to roll my eyes instead. " _Yeah, yeah_. You've said it twice now. For someone so intelligent..." I echoed bitterly. "Alright, I get the memo. I'm smart. Trust me, I'm well aware; I've been told that hundreds of times by people whose opinions I could care less about. Sure, it's a nice compliment - and don't get me wrong, I love to be praised - but hearing those words come out of your mouth, only to be followed by some stupid patronising statement, really makes me feel sick."

L looked completely nonplussed, blinking once in acknowledgment.

"I am sorry that you feel that way, but I don't intend to be patronising."

That was a lie and he damn well knew it. Half of the words that were cryptically strung together by his vocal chords were judgemental; always either being directed at us - the task force - Kira, or society as a whole. In spite of this, I've never once heard a disparaging comment aimed at himself. One can only wonder why.

I scoffed, my words burning in my throat like venom. "Well, do you know what, Ryuzaki? Just because I'm smart doesn't mean I don't have the capacity to make mistakes. Intelligence doesn't equal integrity. We're not all like you!"

His face fell into one of polite confusion. "Like me?"

Was he actually being serious?

I scanned his face for signs that he was pulling my tail here, but none came to light. Frowning, I looked harder but saw no signs that he was joking. Okay, either _he_ was being the hugely unobservant one here or he was acting modest, and L isn't modest in the slightest!

"Yeah, _you_!" I spat. "With your immaculate knowledge and your perpective insights; the way you dig into things that us inferior folk can't seem to wrap our heads around. It's remarkable."

The man opened his mouth to speak, so I swiftly raised my hands to silence him. "No, really. I'm amazed! It's no wonder you're made out to be such a perfect icon. What better way to produce the ideal detective than to cram so many pieces of flawless knowledge into his brain that there's no room left for the minor things - you know, like human empathy."

I was getting really worked up; the winding mechanism in my chest pulling painfully tight. My nails were digging painfully into the soft flesh of my palm, tearing the first layer of skin and marking me with four sore crescent-shaped scrapes on the inside of each hand. I paid it no mind. I was more focused on the eyes of contempt that bore into me like a knife.

It wasn't difficult to tell that L was getting rather impatient wth this game I was playing, but I wasn't nearly done and, damn it, I was going to say all I needed to before I lost my courage.

Before I could stop it, a harsh laugh is torn from my throat as I realise the absurdity of the situation. It was an almost deranged sound that I'd usually never let loose, and it shocked even me. The dark haired man sat across the room frowned, but I only smiled.

"My apologies." I told him, earning a raised brow in response. "I just realised how rude I was being. Here I am, stood within the vicinity of the acclaimed detective L and I'm speaking to him as though I'm an equal. That's just wrong, isn't it? Perhaps I should be prostrating myself at your feet to show my respect. Or would you rather I be trembling at the glory of your genius, oh so great detective?"

Maybe I was pushing it a bit?

Yeah, I was definitely pushing it.

Well, goodbye Kira case! Adieu my fellow detectives! It was fun while it lasted. May as well hand in my letter of resignation now so I don't have to face the humiliation of getting fired.

L sighed, looking away from me for the first time throughout this whole conversation. There was a slight hesitation as he selected the right words to respond with, recognising that he was treading on an active mine field here.

After some time, he tried, "I understand you're frustrated-"

"Yeah, that's exactly my point. You understand, but do you _care_?"

He was confused, and rightly so. This wasn't even remotely connected to what we'd been previously discussion. No, this was picking at the surface of an opinion that I'd long kept bolted down, but if it's going to be said, there's no better time to spit it out.

"Everyone else idolises you, but I don't personally see the point of putting people on pedestals." I began, crossing my hands behind my back to stop myself from fidgeting. "It does nothing but swell up people's heads until they start to float away, and I'm not a big fan of balloons. To me, you weren't some sort of deity meant to worship, but still, you were an example that I wanted to follow."

My zeal was waning by this point; the angry passion that drove out each nasty comment was finally losing its fervour, so I turned to brooding instead.

L watched me curiously as I turned away and folded my arms, murmuring to him quietly, "The reality is far less inspiring."

I couldn't tell if he was hurt by that comment, especially considering the muscles in his face hadn't budged more than an inch from when I'd first entered this room. Though if he was, he wasn't showing it, and frankly, I didn't care. All that concerned me right now was the tension building behind my skull and the sudden hankering for aspirin. Boy, arguing takes a _lot_ of effort.

"I'm glad that you're being honest," He began slowly, cautiously. "However, we're not here to discuss any issues you have regarding myself. We're here to address _your_ issue."

Something akin to a grunt rumbled in my throat, and I threw my hands up in the air. "You don't need to keep reminding me. I know that I'm in the wrong!"

"Do you?"

I was more than ready to respond with a firm ' _yes_ ', but the question was apparently rhetorical as he cut me off before I could even inhale a breath.

"Mr Doyle has a problem. That much isn't debatable. By agreeing to drink with him, you are encouraging his behaviour - whether it's intentional or not. I would like for that to stop _now_."

My lips parted to form another witty argument, but I quickly sealed them, bowing my head. I was so tired of going round and round in circles and I wasn't so sure if I had the energy to put up with any more scrutiny. Ultimately, I raised my white flag, and yielded.

"Fine." I said through gritted teeth. "I understand."

"Good." The detective moved to stand, picking up his laptop as he did so. "That's all I can ask for."

I watched through narrowed eyes as he slunk across the room towards the door, partly expecting another backhanded comment to be thrown in my direction, but it never came.

"So, I'm not being fired?" was what I asked, scepticism clear in my tone.

The detective didn't bother to turn to look at me, but shook his head. "No. If this was under different circumstances, then yes, you would be. I'm not prone to giving second chances, but I need someone intelligent to consult on this case, so I'm letting you off with a warning."

Well, that's motivating. At least I can be grateful that I still have my job. _Not today, Kira_!

"Wait, Ryuzaki." I said, reaching out with a sudden gentleness present in my tone. "There's one thing I don't quite understand."

Sensing this wouldn't be the end of our discussion, the man turned. "Yes?"

My eyes wavered to his closed laptop inbetween his palms. "I presume that you'd read both mine and Chris' files before accepting us to work on this case, right?"

He nodded in the affirmative.

"Then why, if you knew about our problems, would you want to work with us?"

"What makes you think there's any negative comments about you?"

I scoffed. " _Please_ , I don't even need to look to know they've emphasised my fuck-ups. Besides, you're not exactly denying it."

He didn't argue with that (meaning that my assumption was likely correct). Noticing that we were shifting slightly off topic, I continued, " _Whatever_. I don't care what may or may not be written about me. The point is that you were still well aware of Chris' issues before today. Why would you want to work with him? To me, that seems like a terrible decision to make in _any_ situation, so why would you do it?"

For once, the detective seemed stumped, as if he himself was unsure why he'd make such a poor choice. As per usual, no emotion was present on his face but for a brief moment, there was a flicker of sympathy in his dark eyes - something I wasn't used to seeing from him.

When he came to his conclusion, he stated simply, "Because I can understand why he does it."

Frowning, I nodded my head in a gesture that said elaborate; he obliged.

"I know from experience that life as an orphan is difficult to say the least. Without a constant parental figure, we're left to learn from those around us - which isn't always for the best. Ideal role models are hard to come by in the modern day."

Hell yeah, he could say that again.

"It's completely understandable that some would adapt coping mechanisms that aren't the most noble, but that doesn't mean it's right to do so."

As he spoke, I finally felt like I was getting an insight into how the detective functioned. He didn't just jump to conclusions or construct a plan that required the least amount of effort; he actually did empathise! This heart-to-heart moment was really making me reconsider my previous analysis of this man. Maybe he wasn't such an emotionless bastard after all.

"In any case, neither of you have given me any reason to mistrust you or doubt your skills, so I think it would be a poor decision to let either of you go."

A small smile broke out on my face, and I honestly felt like hugging the man, but some part of me warned that that would likely be too much emotion for one day. I didn't want to traumatise him.

"I'm glad. _Really_ glad. Thank you, Ryuzaki."

He didn't smile back or anything as stupidly sentimental as that, but I felt as though we'd reached a mutual understanding. I'd said my part, he'd said his, and we'd both listened. I liked to think that we'd bonded over this and, in spite of how poorly the day had started, I felt oddly happy about that.

However, as soon as the dark haired man exited the room to join the others, leaving me planted in my spot with a promise to join him swiftly, I couldn't help but think back on what he said.

' _Life as an orphan is difficult_ ' - understatement of the year.

It was way more than just difficult; it was torturous in every single meaning of the word, both physically and mentally. There was no simple way to describe the experience as it was purely the manifestation so many different, albeit congruent, emotions. Although, one thing it definitely wasn't was happy.

No child who'd been brought up right could ever know the loneliness of waking up alone on the hard, wet ground; shrouded by darkness; shivering with cold; pocket knife clutched to your chest like a lifeline.

Nor can they know the pang of despair you'd feel when you discover you'd been robbed of all your spare change in the night that you'd saved up for food.

They can't understand the lonely feeling of walking down the main street with everyone avoiding you, sending looks of hostility your way solely because of your rundown appearance - because they know you mean trouble. Even if you are only a child, they refuse to help you.

They can't even begin to understand the anxiety that builds when you slip you hand into a gentleman's pocket as you walk by, silently praying that you won't get caught.

They just wouldn't understand the sensation of heartbreak that I felt when I was slowly drifting off to sleep in an alleyway that stunk of booze and cigarettes and just wondering - wondering what my mother looked like or how my father's voice sounded. Sometimes I'd wonder what I would've been called, should I have been actually given a name, or how my life would've played out if I hadn't been tossed aside like garbage.

Only I could ever understand how I feel; no one else. It's a secret that I'll take with me to my grave, and I can only hope that no one else ever has to live the same way I did ever again.

I did bad things on the streets. Hugely regrettable things that still make me bow my head in shame.

Did I blame my upbringing? Yes. Completely. I was _not_ a bad person

It's not wrong to say that every criminal has a reason to be the way they are. Whether it be nurture or nature; a bad upbringing; a mental illness; some could argue that even radicalisation could be at fault. Not all criminals are necessarily bad people. Some just make bad decisions.

Kira, fixed as his mindset is, doesn't seem to comprehend that. His lack of lateral thinking means that he's only able to see the bad decisions people make. He doesn't know their past nor does does he know what future they might have had, should they lived longer. In fact, I doubt he even cares. He's either too blind or too ignorant to see that criminals, despite the heinous acts they've committed, are still human.

Humanity is born flawed. That's a fact. Making mistakes is part of life and it's something we can't avoid. Given, some mistakes have larger consequences than others, but that doesn't mean that it was done with bad intentions in mind.

And that's why I consider myself lucky that I don't have a name. For if I didn't, I'd likely already be dead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> * If anyone's a bit confused about this, I just want to clarify it now. I know I don't use Japanese honourifics or any Japanese phrases in this fanfic, but if ever L/Chris/Agent are in the presence of someone native to Japan (e.g. Light, the police officers, Misa, and so on), just assume that they're speaking in Japanese. I specified that L and Agent were no longer speaking in Japanese because L wanted their conversation to be private and therefore didn't want the officers to understand what they were saying if they overheard. Hope that makes things a bit clearer
> 
> Welp I scared a lot of people with that cliffhanger in the last chapter, and for that I am (not) sorry, but you needn't fear, dear readers! As this chapter revealed, Agent and Chris are merely prohibited from drinking together. It doesn't necessarily mean one of them is going to die. 
> 
> Or does it??
> 
> Anyway, although this chapter was mostly filler, I put a lot of effort into it. You know, 9000 words and all (*insert DBZ's "it's over 9000" meme here*). 
> 
> I just decided we needed a little filler chapter before the actual action happens. Besides, we already know a considerable amount about Agent's life, but we know next to nothing about Chris.
> 
> So here you go - alcoholism. Yay. 
> 
> Reasons why Chris is the way he is will be revealed in later chapters so I hope you're all ready for more depressing backstories because I sure as hell am ready to write them!
> 
> Side note: I did not realise until I reread this chapter how much I made Agent sound like Mello and now I'm shook. It was completely unintentional, but I love their parallels!


	8. Chapter Seven

Chris and I weren't speaking.

Needless to say, after the previous day's discussion, him and I had fallen out. He was furious at me for not backing him up and agreeing with the detective. I can't blame him; even I was mad at myself for agreeing with L, but it had to be done at some point, and what better time to start than in the middle of a stressful, time consuming, life threatening murder investigation?

It was almost ironic - most men would actually resort to alcoholism in their despair, and yet Chris was being driven away from it. If my friend wasn't the one being forced to abandon his coping mechanism, I would've laughed at his misfortune.

He'd spoken with Watari and agreed - albeit reluctantly - to attend rehabilitation sessions every couple of weeks. It wasn't ideal, especially considering how inflexible the schedule of the investigation was, but he planned to make it work. I did what I could to make it more bearable for him, but this was easier said than done.

For starters, I'd been asked by L to confiscate all alcoholic beverages in his possession, and tell the bartender at the hotel not to allow him make any purchases. Knowing that Chris used his own methods to wriggle his way out of a sticky situation, I may have slipped the employees a bit of cash to uphold their end of the deal. I wasn't particularly happy about spending what little amount of yen I had left, but as long as it got the job done.

After discovering my meddling, Chris prohibited me from entering his room. He'd even gone so far as to barricade the door with a chair and coffee table when I started to pick the lock. I'd stood outside his door for almost half an hour, spouting teary apologisies through the solid wood, only to receive silence as my response. Eventually succumbing to fatigue, I'd gone up to my own room, resorting to text messages and voicemails. In my hopelessness, I'd tried all the cliche responses: " _we'll get through this together_ " and " _I'm here for you_ ". It was enough to make even me cringe, but I really didn't know what else to say to regain my favour. I had hoped my dedication would be enough.

To no one's surprise, I was forced to walk to the task force the next day.

It didn't matter much anyway as, within five minutes of sitting down, I was back up on my feet and strapped into a car seat alongside my new best buddy.

Over the course of the night, L had had an ingenious breakthrough. His brilliant mind had formulated the plan to invite Light Yagami - who was renowned to be a great sportsman during his adolescent years - to play tennis. All of this, apparently, would help discern whether Light was Kira.

Foolproof, right?

At first, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. What the hell would a tennis match prove?

_'Oh, Light Yagami has a solid grounstroke - must be a serial killer.'_

If I thought L was a bit wacky before, then boy, I had something coming.

"So, what's the big idea behind this stupid plan again?"

Although I'd been mindlessly whittering for the duration of the drive, L seemed particularly irritated by this comment. "It's not stupid."

"It _is_ stupid. How is a game of tennis going to prove whether Light Yagami is Kira?"

"Kira hates to lose." L reiterated

I genuinely wanted to bash my head against the seat in front of me, but I released my frustration with a sigh. "Everybody hates to lose, Ryuzaki. It's nothing special. Honestly, there are so many more things we could be doing to get somewhere with this case."

"Would you rather I have Watari take you back to the hotel?"

He had me there. "No," I grumbled, and the conversation ended there.

Between Chris' constant cold shoulder and the mundane activities I knew would be waiting for me if I was to go back to the hotel, I think I'd stick with the detective's bullshit. Besides, I hadn't just been asked to come to indulge in L's overly sporadic plan. According to the detective, he was convinced that Light Yagami would have some questions about his identity and felt that verification would be necessary in the form of a third party. Out of everyone, he asked me. _Me_. Naturally, I felt obliged to go. It'd be the equivalent of sticking a finger in his face if I refused, and we've only just gotten back on good terms. I wasn't risking that.

Besides, knowing L - who couldn't even take a breath without formulating some overly critical BS - some sort of ambiguous interrogation was bound to occur. Being one of two people on the task force who had the most knowledge about Light Yagami (one of whom is his father, and has an obviously biased opinion on his son's guilt), it was suitable that I be present to back up anything L might say henceforth.

So I allowed myself to be dragged to To-Oh (the university I didn't even attend, mind you) to act as validation and co-interrogator... and also spectator apparently, because L was adamant that this friendly game of tennis would happen.

I felt the car crawl to a stop and looked out of the window, seeing that (once again) I was being let out of the vehicle half a block away from the university itself. Narrowing my eyes, I spun towards L.

"Wait, are you seriously dropping me off here again?"

"Yes."

"Why?" I whined, throwing my head back in frustration. "Honestly, it doesn't even matter if Light recognises me with you now. He's going find out the truth _literally_ within the next few hours, and that's assuming he hasn't already put two and two together - which, I assure you, he definitely has. So what's the point?"

"If he learns of our association before I begin to test him, his reactions may not be genuine." He said, at which point I rolled my eyes, prepared to make a snappy comment about the fact this whole interrogation is based on a tennis game. However, L intercepted before I could even complete one successful eye roll. "I'm sure you have plenty of things on your mind. Walking is good for that. It'll help to clear your head."

Oh yeah, he'd want me to clear my head for sure. The only thoughts I had right now revolved around slamming either my head or his into the car door.

As I unbuckled my seatbelt, I muttered, "I hope Light kicks your ass."

L merely waved me goodbye as I slid from the car seat.

Huffing, I made sure he got a good glance of my evil eye before gently closing the car door (I didn't slam it; primarily because I held the upmost respect for Watari and his property, but also because L would liken me to a child and I did not deserve more mockery).

The car whizzed off and I donned my ' _angsty teen_ ' facade, shoving my hands in my pockets and practically stomping across the pavements in my anger, earning concerned looks from passing adults.

By the time I'd made it to the university - my angry pace allowing me to blow off some steam - Light and L were already setting up their match.

 _Oh goodie_. I was kinda hoping Light would say no to the game so I wouldn't be forced to sit and watch this droll, but _no_. Of course he said yes. The detective probably had a poke at his pride, so then Mr Inflated Ego would _have_ to play.

I moved to see them better, resting my arms against the railing that skirted along the perimeter of the playing court, standing just out of Light's line of sight to avoid being recognised. The game started innocently enough, with the pair exchanging pleasantries and Light trying to keep the conversation floating in calmer waters (i.e. by not providing any indication that he was Kira). I was oddly excited to see how L performed in a game that actually required physical exercise instead of mental analysis. I mean, he wasn't exactly the fittest guy around, and Light posed a tough challenge - being Japan's high school junior champion for two years running or whatever.

Although I'd heard it'd been a while since Light hung up his racket for good, I could imagine that he was pretty athletic in his spare time. I mean, if that one brief peek I'd gotten of Light's torso when he was getting undressed told me anything, then he definitely had the body for it.

It was L's turn to serve first. I was expecting him to toss the ball and fall flat on his face trying to hit it, but what I got was a spherical green blur pistoning across the court and slamming against the chain link fencing before Light - or myself - had a chance to properly react. Needless to say, I was stunned.

Okay, who was this alien that had replaced my boss, and what had he done with the real L?

Even Light was baffled, glancing rapidly between the rattled fence and his opponent. He released a steady but strained laugh, making a quick snarky comment about how L wasn't going to take it easy on him (yeah, no shit) before trudging over to get the ball.

Still too awestruck to react, all I could do was shake my head slowly, making a mental note to tell the detective to go fuck himself the next time he asks that I make a cup of coffee for him.

Sardonically, I thought to myself, _that's fifteen-love to L_ , but who was counting really?

* * *

 

"That's four games all. Light Yagami to serve."

Okay. So _he's_ counting.

I can't believe they got their own umpire. This is fucking ridiculous. Wasn't this a university? What are these kids doing with their free periods? Shouldn't they be studying? Or getting hammered? Or sitting in a corner and crying? All I know is that they shouldn't be here, standing around and wasting their time (and also blocking my view, assholes).

In the time it'd taken L and Light to play four tantalisingly long games, the pair had attracted quite a crowd. I was genuinely surprised that so many students on one college campus would dedicate their spare time to watch an amateur tennis match. It's a good sport, given, but it's not exactly the most exhilarating to watch. Personally, I prefer basketball. There's less sex noises and more mutual excitement from the crowd, but each to their own.

To the right of me, I could hear members of Light's fanclub (as I'd so crudely dubbed them) rabble over his incredible skills, and then there was that one girl to the left who quite clearly had the hots for my superior.

Listening to her speak so passionately about the detective, it took a great deal of self-restraint not to laugh out loud. Oh, how I would _love_ recounting this story to him later. I can already feel the second hand embarrassment radiating off of him.

My lips curled into an amused grin as I tried to picture L administering the slightest amount of affection upon another human being, and the image my mind painted just seemed so foreign to me. The detective seemed uncomfortable to even brush shoulders with another human being; it was impossible to imagine him undergoing the level of physical intimacy required in a relationship.

Besides, to most people, L wasn't even remotely attractive (he was all edgy teenage grunge and no style). That is, unless you thought intelligence was sexy, and then L was the equivalent of Brad Pitt.

Just when I was beginning to think that I couldn't take much more of the repetitive swinging, Light's racket collided with the ball and he sent it hurtling with a firm strike, with L only just missing it as it ricocheted off the surface of the court floor. The umpire declared it game set with Light as the victor, and I breathed a hefty sigh of relief as the Light Yagami fanclub went wild. L didn't seem too put off by his loss, but I still hoped for Light's sake that he wasn't a sore loser, otherwise the boy's _could be Kira_ percentage would go skyrocketing and he'd be probably convicted within a fortnight.

As the pair exited the court, beads of sweat collecting on their temples and their faces flushing with exertion (even L's pasty skin had a slight red tinge to it), I scrolled through my contacts and called the number dubbed Ryuzaki.

As soon as the one connected, and I could see L dangling the phone next to his ear in the distance, I said flippantly into the receiver, "So, what's your verdict, almighty one? He won the game, and Kira hates to lose. Is he our serial killer or not?"

"I'm going to test his deductive reasoning." The detective replied, completely swerving away from my question. "We've agreed to go elsewhere. I'll inform you of the location when we arrive."

I held back a sigh. "Okay. How long?"

There was a brief moment of silence as he made his estimations. "Realistically, twenty minutes. Optimistically, ten."

This time, I couldn't help but groan. "And what am I supposed to do for all that time? Twiddle my thumbs?"

"You could if you wanted, but I don't think it'd be very productive."

"Ryuzaki, really-"

"If you want to use your time effectively, you could try to find more personal details about Light Yagami. Judging by how sociable he is, Light is bound to have befriended some students in this college. Ask around."

I glanced across the campus, seeing heaps upon heaps of young students swarming the area. Any one of these people could be acquainted to Light, but who would be the right person?

"Alright, but what exactly am I supposed to ask? _Oh, hey stranger, you know Light Yagami? Do you think he could be a killer in his spare time_?"

"I'm sorry, what about Light Yagami?"

I hung up the phone instantly, cutting off L mid-sentence in the process, and spun on my heel in surprise.

A young woman - student, I reminded myself - stood a few feet away from me, close enough to have heard a familiar name carried on the breeze as she passed. She wore a plaited white shirt on her front that provided the perfect contrast with the dark bangs that brushed her shoulder, and black suit pants. It was an oddly formal outfit for someone belonging to her demographic - and it made me seem like a kid in comparison, even though I'm probably older than her - but maybe she was just mature for her age.

From where I stood, I could only just see her eyes. Blue, like mine, but colder. Icy almost. They communicated curiousity, but I could see the suspicious undertones there and so I held my guard.

"Hi," I said blankly. "Who are you?"

"Kiyomi Takada." She didn't hesitate to respond. Her tone was soft, but biting - like snow. Clearly someone had some issues with me talking shit about Golden Boy behind his back. Please, oh please, don't tell me she's his girlfriend. I do _not_ want to put up with a possessive woman guarding her man-territory today.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear you mentioning Light's name." She told me, and I nodded warily.

"Are you a friend of his?"

The woman blushed slightly, glancing down at her intertwined hands. "Actually, we're seeing each other." There was a pause, a moment in which I started internally screaming for jinxing myself. Then, she added quietly, "Or, at least, I think we are."

What was that supposed to mean? Was Pretty Boy a bit of a player perhaps? Mr Yagami wouldn't be too pleased to hear that, especially after the magazine incident - another tiny dent in his son's perfect facade.

Not wanting to pry into the privacy of someone who was essentially a stranger, I pretended not to hear that last comment and changed the subject. "I met Light at the ceremony. We were supposed to be meeting up today."

Takada did not like the implications of a meet up apparently as her head snapped up in shock. "What?"

Raising my hands in defence, I clarified, "Oh no, it's nothing like that! I'm new to Japan, and Light offered to show me the ropes, if you will."

"Oh." She laughed. "Yes, I suppose that makes sense."

There was another pause, more awkward this time, so I offered, "Is he normally so late?"

Frowning, Takada shook her head. "No, Light's usually quite punctual."

All of a sudden, her gaze left mine and she looked away, thoughtful. "Actually, now that you mention it, he has been acting a little strange recently."

My interest peaked. "In what way?"

"He seems distant. Bored, almost. I mean, we're not an official couple, so I never expected full commitment from him. Suddenly though, it seems like he's never present when I'm speaking to him. Ever since the ceremony, he's been acting like as though not interested in me at all."

As she spoke, I noticed the icy emphasis put on ' _ever since the ceremony_ ' and very nearly flinched.

Oh, she thinks I'm hooking up with him, doesn't she? She's probably heard all of those tragic stories told by bitter exes of their men being stolen by exotic foreign women - a criteria that I fit accordingly.

Well, screw that, I am not getting wound in relationship drama. Abort mission!

"I'm sure that's not the case." I tried, softening my eyes to try and appear comforting. "Maybe he's just more focused in his studies right now."

The girl released a long sigh, avoiding my eyes and fidgeting. "I don't know if I should even be talking to you about this. You barely know him, and I don't even know you."

Well that could be easily solved, I thought.

Smiling as genuinely as genuinely as I could given the very awkward circumstances, I introduced myself. "Katherine Turner. Exchange student from the US. Now you know me." I shrugged.

The girl smiled back, hesitantly so, and she looked like she was about to say something. However, a buzzing in my back pocket demanded my immediate attention and I whipped out my phone, already knowing who it was.

Saved by the ringtone, it seems.

"Hello?"

"There's a small coffee shop located about half a mile away from the university campus. I'm sending directions to you now." The familiar voice droned into my ear, sounding as stern as ever.

I continued my perky facade, all grin and no grumble. "Alright! Not a problem. Sorry about earlier, by the way. Something unexpected popped up."

"I understand. We can discuss it further later."

"Okay, see you soon!" I ended the call, still cringing at the sound of my own girlish voice, and slid my phone back into the safety of my pocket.

"Was that Light?" Takada asked, raising a brow.

"No, that was... my boyfriend." _Fuck_ , I hate using that excuse. "He's just wondering what we're doing for dinner."

Smooth, Agent, smooth. The jealous harpy will definitely believe that.

"That being said, I'd better get going. I've got a lot of things to do." I lied, tapping my watchless left wrist to indicate I'm caught for time. "Maybe I'll catch up with Light some other day."

"If I see him, I'll let him know you were looking for him."

"Thanks." I said with a smile, intending to leave the conversation there, but then a thought came to me: she could be useful.

"Hey, do you want to keep in touch? It's probably better if I start making friends around here."

The student seemed genuinely surprised by my offer, but nodded nonetheless. "Sure."

We did as agreed and exchanged numbers, with me listing her in my contacts as ' _Suspect's GF_ ' for future reference.

As she began to walk away, headed towards her next lecture most likely, she held up her phone, just barely smiling. "If I ever need to get something off my chest, I'll know who to call. It was nice talking to you."

Having already started walking in the opposite direction towards the entrance gates, I merely waved to her. "You too, Takada."

The false grin fell from my face as I turned my back on her, replaced by a more genuine one. I was proud of my small accomplishment today: learning that Light's first meeting with L on the day of the ceremony (not moi, as Takada had falsely assumed) had had a knock-on effect with his sociability. According to his lovely lady devotee, he'd become distracted, distant, and disinterested with social activites. This was interesting to know and was something I'd definitely divulge to the the detective later.

Taking another glance at my phone, I saw a set of directions had been sent to me via text and, after bringing it up on an online map, began marching in that direction.

* * *

 

I arrived at a quaint little coffee shop a little ten minutes after leaving the campus, raising a questioning brow at the venue of choice.

It seemed cosy. Kinda like a place you'd go on a date. Maybe L is trying to seduce Light? Great tactic, I must say.

I giggled quietly to myself at that thought as I pushed open the doors, surveying the area, trying to pick out where that mop of black sat among the café patrons. It didn't take too long to find him, considering that he stood out like a sore thumb, sat in a booth nearer the back of the room in his signature perched owl position. I still couldn't believe that he'd choose to sit like that in public. It was just embarrassing. If this was any other normal day under normal circumstances, I'd have sat as far away as I possibly could from the crazed lunatic and told everyone that 'he's not with me'. Unfortunately, this was not a normal day.

As I approached the table, L's critical eyes zeroed in on me, and Light, probably noticing that his companion's attention was no longer on him, turned to follow his gaze.

Let's just say that if his reaction to hearing the detective say ' _I'm L_ ' was poor, then his reaction to seeing me was just insulting.

Though, even if his face didn't move, I would've loved to hear what was going on inside his head right now.

_Ooh it's the crazy woman who barged into me and had way too many random questions about Kira. Wow! Shocker! Didn't see that one coming!_

"Hey," I forced out, an uneasy smile on my face. "How's it going?"

He furrowed his brow in thought for a moment, smiled politely, and then asked. "Katherine, was it?" I nodded curtly. The boy looked back at L, and then back at me. "So you're-?"

"Surprise!" I cheered bitterly, waving my hands for effect. "It was pretty obvious though, wasn't it?"

Light forced a laugh. "It did seem a little too convenient that a stranger would ask me so many questions about Kira on the same day Ryuga introduced himself as the detective hunting him."

I scrunched my nose up in embarrassment. "Yeah, I had a feeling that'd raise some flags. We weren't initially going to be so direct, but when I screwed up and barged right into you, we kinda had to improvise. Shame. The other plan was so much smoother and much less awkward."

Light frowned, saying, "Then why would you walk into me?"

What? Did he think I planned to fall on my ass and make a fool out of myself? Pretty Boy cuts me deep. I may not be the most dignified woman, but I did have _some_ dignity.

Grimacing, I slumped over to the other edge of the booth and leaned against the wall. "I was having a bad day."

Light seemed to accept that answer, nodding. Meanwhile, I looked down at L, making the ' _budge up_ ' motion with my head. He took the hint and shuffled over, still in his crouching position, and I slid in next to him. To anyone else, we probably looked like a very weird equivalent of the three amigos, but I felt oddly relaxed with the arrangement.

My God, I'm getting way too comfortable with this.

"Anyway, I believe I was asked to come here for a specific reason, was I not?"

Light responded in the affirmative, glancing between me and the man sat ( _perched_ ) next to me.

"Well go ahead. Ask away."

He sat up a little straighter and dipped his head towards mine, brown orbs scanning the area for any potential eavesdroppers. I mimicked his posture, leaning across the table with ardour.

"Is Ryuga the real L?" He'd lowered his tone, emotionless eyes boring into mine.

I smirked. "He's as real as it gets. Though I can see why you'd have your doubts. When I first met him, I couldn't believe that this ambiguous faceless detective could be so weird in actuality."

The detective's head snapped towards me, offended. "I'm weird?"

Blankly, I looked him up and down for any signs he was kidding; he wasn't. Really? He goes around masquerading the classic Alice Cooper look and wearing clothes that look as though they've never been introduced to an ironing board, and he thinks that's normal? _Wow_. L really needed to be introduced to some culture.

"You know you're weird. You play tennis to determine whether someone is Kira and then you invite them for coffee. That's weird."

"And yet which one of us is globally recognised as the world's greatest detective?"

I scoffed. "Arrogance is ugly, Ryuzaki, but it suits you so well."

From out of the corner of my eye, I could see Light watching us. He looked really confused, and rightfully so. Here he was - seventeen years old, studying his first year in law, with aspirations of becoming a police officer - sat across from what can only be described as a human/owl/panda hybrid that was currently exchanging banter with an edgy teenage girl who'd charged into him two days prior.

Welcome to the Kira task force. We catch criminals. Please take us seriously.

A loud ringing suddenly went off to my right and I glanced down towards the source, seeing the detective pull out his mobile, evoking a glare.

"Excuse me." Was all he said in response.

Oh, you're damn well excused!

How is it fair that he's allowed his phone on at all hours of the day, but we have to keep ours on silent just so we don't distract him. Injustice at its finest. God, what a hypocrite!

Across the table, Light's cell then went off, and he excused himself also, holding the phone to his ear. Pouting like a child, I slouched back in the booth, feeling hugely left out of whatever party these two had been invited to. I wasn't left to wallow in loneliness for too long however as the pair both managed to pull faces of mutual shock in perfect synchronisation. If this was an act, it was very good, but something told me that wasn't the case.

Snapping to attention, I glanced between them both, concerned. "What's wrong?"

Light blanched. "My father. He had a heart attack." He muttered, eyes wide as he stared down at his phone.

My breath hitched. For a moment, my brain shut down; it refused to process what I was hearing, and I almost asked Light to repeat what he'd said. My mouth having turned dry, I wordlessly looked towards L, whose solemn face confirmed the statement.

Well shit.

" _Jesus_." I sighed, shaking my head in denial. "Is he okay or was it...?" I didn't even have to finish my sentence for the others to know what I meant, the weight of the word hanging heavy over our heads.

"No. He's been admitted to hospital." L informed me, flooding my system with warm relief. "We should go right away."

Light and I nodded in agreement, both unsteadily climbing to our feet.

"I'll call a cab." I announced to the pair, already dialling the number as we marched out of that small sweet cafe on the corner.

* * *

 

The cab arrived five minutes later - five minutes that I'd spent both thanking and cursing whichever sick deity it was that had devised this ironic joke but had still allowed Mr Yagami to live. It was a very conflicting five minutes, but as I looked towards the Chief's son, I was glad to see some semblance of emotion on his face. Panic. Confusion. A mixture of both? Whatever it was, at least it meant we weren't dealing with a sociopath.

When the car arrived, we all crammed in, Light taking the front seat whilst L and I sat in the back. None of us spoke as the car rattled on in the direction of the hospital, the only sounds coming from the radio. It would've been pleasantly peaceful if it wasn't for the severity of the current scenario, and it was in this pitiful semblance of peace that I began to think.

Fortunately, we could rule out Kira's involvement because the Chief hadn't actually died, meaning it was due to natural causes. Still, there's plenty of reasons why someone his age could have a heart attack: blood clots; an arrhythmia; disease; panic; stress. Ah. _Stress_. That would make the most sense. With everything that's been going on recently, it would come as no surprise. The common workload of a police officer is stressful enough, but we've just been piling bad events onto his plate by the dozen. If that doesn't make me feel guilty for pointing fingers at his son, then I don't know what will.

I huffed out an anxious sigh as I stared out of the window, counting cars to keep my mind from concentrating on what a crappy human being I was. This was a relatively easy mental exercise seeing as there were so many cars in Japan; it was almost impossible for me to become distracted by any negative thoughts. In fact, I was so engrossed by my little game that I almost didn't notice the light pressure being applied to my shoulder, and slowly turned my head away from the window.

It seemed that my backseat companion had placed a hand on my shoulder, dark eyes watching my response - emotionless as ever. I was expecting him to ask me a question, seeing as he'd never diverted my attention in the past without needing my consultation for something. When he didn't attempt to communicate with me, I furrowed my brows and could only stare back in confusion.

What did he want?

It took a few more seconds of very awkward silent staring (awkward on both ends) before I came to a realisation: he was trying to comfort me.

My lips twitched up into a humoured smile, which apparently was enough to scare him off; his hand instantly recoiled from me and he faced the front of the vehicle in the most deadpan manner as though nothing had ever transpired. Clearly this was too much human interaction for one day.

Despite his rather hasty flight response, I was impressed. As omniscient as he is, the man could probably see I was distressed by the sudden turn of events and was trying to make me feel better. I didn't really feel any better, but at least he was trying. It just goes to show that he is capable of human empathy. Good for him.

It took us about twenty minutes to get to the hospital due to congestion and Light, of course, was the first one out of the vehicle (he also paid in my favour - an admirable quality, especially considering I had very little currency left). As soon as we passed through the hospital doors, being completely taken aback by the scent of antiseptic and the sound of whining children, Light flocked to the customer service desk to ask where his father was being kept. L and I lingered behind him but kept at the boy's heel once he started striding off, having gotten the desired information.

Countless double doors and a handful of seemingly endless corridors later, we arrived at his designated room and all pushed in.

Sweet Jesus! The man looked terrible.

Completely grey from the attack; eyes dark and unfocused; chest rising and falling slowly with each labourous breath. It had just completely aged him. Poor Chief.

Sachiko (whom I remembered from my ' _spying_ ') was already with him and held his hand tightly as she sat in a chair beside his bed. Light rushed over to his dad and began bombarding him with questions such as 'are you okay' and 'when did this happen'. A little cliche, but touching all the same.

After reassuring his flustered kinsfolk, the haggard man looked towards us. "Agent. Ryuzaki. I'm glad you're here."

Light craned his neck towards me, expression lapsing into one of polite confusion. I pretended not to notice, inwardly seething.

Wow. Nice slip up, Chief. I can't really resent him because he's never needed to use my alias, wheareas he uses L's on a daily basis. I'd only ever mentioned it in passing, so I'm not surprised he didn't remember it. Still, this was an annoying setback. I was hoping to build up some trust with Light Yagami. Using an alias, as crucial as having one was in the current situation (something Light should - and likely would - understand), was not the right way to go about this.

"Guilty of using an alias. Sorry." I muttered to him, before turning back to his dad. "How are you feeling, Mr Yagami?"

Yes, Agent. Ask a man who has recently had a heart attack how he is feeling because he must be feeling really _peachy_!

"I've been better." He responded with a little laugh. "Thank you for asking."

There was only three provided chairs, one of which was currently occupied by Mr Yagami's wife, so I chose to stand, moving to look out of the window.

Time drawled by with Sachiko pestering her husband with hundreds upon thousands of questions, the Chief explaining to the rest of us that the doctors has confirmed it was indeed stress that triggered his heart attack and not our homicidal megalomaniac. It was at this time that I was suddenly glad that Mr Yagami had been given a private room otherwise all this talk of Kira would've shocked some people; it also meant there was no loud distractions. Well, other than the noisy havoc from outside. As expected of a hospital, you couldn't go five minutes without hearing the echo of a police siren blaring out across the city, and it made me shoot glares out of the window with each interruption. Seriously, I know Tokyo is a large, lively, thriving community and all, but how many emergencies can occur in such short time?

I bet it was some stupid teenage kids doing some stupid teenage things like stupid teenagers do - backflipping off a bridge or setting off fireworks in the house. Honestly, I've never really understood what is so compelling about putting yourself in danger for the sake of a laugh. I mean, really, this generation is devolving humanity back into primates.

 _Kids these days_! Says the nineteen year old...

After a while, Mrs Yagami left to tend to Sayu, who was still at home. Before she left, she gave her son a quick peck on the cheek and told him to look after his father. Gee, if only she knew her son was a suspect in a mass homicide case, then maybe she wouldn't be so trusting.

As soon as she closed the door to the room, I took the opportunity to leisurely slide into the empty chair, getting myself comfortable as Light addressed his father.

"So the doctors think stress was the only cause?"

"Yeah. To be honest, I thought it was Kira when I first collapsed but I'll be alright." Mr Yagami replied dryly. "It seems I've been pushing myself a bit too hard lately."

"Indeed. It must have added to your stress, knowing that Light is a suspect in this investigation." L added casually, earning him a harsh scowl from Light.

"You actually told my father that?" He asked, appalled.

The ever nonchalant detective didn't see anything wrong with this. "Yes. In fact, I've told him everything. It's true he even knows that I am L." He turned back to the man in question with an explanation in hand. "When I say I suspect your son, you should know that it's very minor."

Although neither of them gave any indication, both Light and his father seemed to ooze a sense of relief, and I hastily clicked my tongue.

"I hate to rain on your parade but that's not something to be hugely relieved about," I chided, directing my speech mostly towards Light, who turned to me with an unreadable expression. "Whilst it's true that your chances of being Kira are low, you still have the strongest probability out of everyone else we've had our eye on, ranking you as our number one suspect."

The silence that accumulated then was enough to rival that from any Charlie Chaplin film, and the tension started to become unbearable.

"Congratulations." I added sardonically in an attempt to soothe the blow.

Light sat a little straighter. "Can I ask what your basis for these chances are?"

I looked towards L for clarification, who swooped in with an elaborate explaination.

"Not too long ago, Kira killed twelve FBI agents who had come to Japan to assist with the investigation. They were instructed to follow people connected to the Japanese police and whom would have access to confidential police files. One of these agents - Raye Penber - passed away last December, exhibiting strange behaviour before he died."

"Let me guess, I was one of the people Raye Penber was investigating before he died?" Light asked. When I nodded, I could practically see the gears in Light's head start to whir as his carefully constructed ego walls came hammering down to obscure any reaction he might've given away. Gingerly, he folded his arms over his chest as he relaxed back into his chair, turning his nose up. "Well, then it only makes sense I'd be a suspect. Logically, there's no one else you could suspect."

Wow. Golden Boy was taking this accusation like a champ, even going so far as to single himself out as the sole suspect. Weird kid.

"I find Light's deductive powers to be quite impressive. Someone with his abilities would be an asset to us in a case like this."

I was helpless to stop the eyeroll that was evoked by that comment, and had to turn my head to stop the others from noticing my dissent.

Look at him, dropping hints here and there. So smooth. So subtle. Why not write ' _HELP WANTED_ ' across your forehead? I mean, it doesn't sound as though we're desperate for young fresh minds or anything.

Golden Boy, having the mentality of someone older than five years old, thankfully took the hint. "Ryuga, I'd like to help with the investigation."

I almost applauded him. What a gentleman, saving us from going to all that trouble.

L cocked a brow. "Are you quite sure, Light?"

The boy nodded. "Absolutely. Any doubts I might have had regarding your true identity have been erased, so I know I can trust you. Besides, I'd like nothing more than to catch Kira and put him behind bars where he belongs."

The ' _and prove that I'm not Kira_ ' part was left unsaid but we all heard it.

"No, Light," came a pleading voice from the hospital bed, and Mr Yagami leaned forward to grasp his son's hands with his own. "This is a time in your life when you should be studying to become a police officer. It won't be too late to join us once you're done."

I blanched. Oh dear God, I hope he didn't mean that. The amount of time it would take for Light to finish his courses at university and join the police force was leaning on four to possibly five years. It'd better not actually take that long to find Kira; this case was already aging me. What would I be like in five years' time?

Light appeared to share my sentiment, his brow hardening in displeasure. "Really, Dad, come on! Who knows how many years that'll take? Besides, I promised you that if anything were ever to happen to you that I would find Kira and make sure he gets executed." He was adamant that his words were truth, determination rolling off of him in waves; I snorted.

 _Aw_ , I love when people make promises they can't keep. Adorable! Stupid, especially for someone of Light's calibre, but adorable all the same.

"Excuse me!" A new voice pitched in, making us all look over. "Visiting hours were over ten minutes ago."

I rolled my eyes at the nurse who was peeking her head around the door, a clear look of impatience on her face.

Alright, pushy, we're leaving! _Bitch_.

We bid our goodbyes and wishes of recovery to the Chief who, understandably, explained that he wouldn't be in work for a while. We gave him as long as he needed. After all, it'd be a bit cruel of us to force him to work whilst he's still recuperating. Plus, we're probably just going to be shittalking his son anyway, and that can't do anything good for his blood pressure.

As we all filed out, heading back down to the hospital entrance, L whipped out his cell as he shuffled along and called for Watari to collect us. Light and I walked ahead of him, side by side, but didn't exchange any pleasantries (party due to lack of appropriate conversational material but also because I really didn't want to have a one on one conversation with him after our last awkward encounter). Nevertheless, the silence that shrouded us was smothering, so I tried my hand at starting a conversation.

"Congrats on your win in tennis today," was all I could muster apparently.

Light nodded politely. "Thanks. I'll admit I was a bit surprised when Ryuga asked me to play. I'm assuming that was another one of his tests?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "It was a stupid idea. If you're thinking of joining the investigation, you'd better get used to that."

The boy in question furrowed his brows. "Tests?"

"No. Stupid ideas."

Light laughed, an oddly jovial sound for someone usually so sombre, but didn't respond. After that, the three of us dipped in a vacant silence, slipping out of the hospital doors and being instantly assaulted by the bitter February air.

Huffing, I wrapped my arms around myself and buried my nose in the collar of my jacket to try and block out the cold wind. Light had a similar reaction, but L, nonsurprisngly, paid not mind to the elements and moved closer to the edge of the sidewalk (most likely to flag down Watari when he eventually arrived). Shaking my head, I sauntered over to him and unceremoniously leant my right side against his, tightening my arms over my chest. He stiffened, but didn't drop kick me across the road, which I was grateful for. Instead, he made eye contact and raised a questioning brow.

With a sigh, I told him, "Did you know that by standing close to another human being that we can conserve more body heat than if we were standing alone in a cold environment?"

"I did know that."

"Penguins do it. So do puppies."

"Do I look like either of those animals to you?"

Scoffing, I answered, "No, you're more of a raccoon actually."

The man instantly bristled with offence, his form stiffening for a second time. "A raccoon?"

Lips curling into a smirk, I pointed to the underside of his eyes, making semi-circle gestures with my finger to indicate I was referring to his absolutely heinous eye-bags. He frowned in obvious displeasure, but didn't object, briefly rubbing his eyes as he turned to face the road once more.

"Ryuga," a voice suddenly said from behind us, sounding more than a little agitated. "What would it take to get you to believe that I'm not Kira?"

Ah. Light. How could I forget he was still here?

In response to his inquiry, the detective and I exchanged glances, then looked towards the boy, whose eyes were gleaming with fervent distress.

"Please, isn't there something I can do?" He tried, essentially begging.

L paused for a long second, holding a finger to his lip in mock thought. Light looked towards me, masking an expression of pure helplessness, and I held up my hands, unable to tell him what he wanted to hear.

Finally, the detective turned back to the boy, seemingly having reached a conclusion. " _No_."

The response was instaneous. "I can't take this anymore! Put yourself in my position. How do you think it feels to be accused of being Kira?"

Again, the detective took a moment to pause. I couldn't tell if he was just humouring the kid or whether he was genuinely considering how it would feel (if he was, then that was honestly adorable). Regardless, he soon replied, "It was one of the worst feelings ever."

A car horn erupted from our right and I waved at Watari as he pulled over to where we three stood. L opened the car door with the intention of getting in, but Light wasn't finished.

"What if you were to lock me up for a month in a place with no TV or any kind of access to the outside world and keep a constant watch over me?" Light suggested, his voice rising an octave, clearly desperate.

"That's wouldn't do either of us any good." The detective argued, quickly growing bored with this conversation. "I can't do anything that would deprive you of basic human rights."

I actually had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing.

Okay, first of all, we've already deprived this kid of various human rights, namely the right to privacy. Second of all, when did watching the TV or listening to the radio classify as a basic human right? I call bullshit on that, great detective. You just don't want the fuss.

"And furthermore, it's complete nonsense for the investigator to take suggestions from his suspect."

Okay, that second statement seemed more logical. I'll give him that one.

L made a move to climb into the backseat, turning his back on our suspect. "Please take care of Mr Yagami. Goodnight."

"I'll be sure to." Light sighed, blatantly disheartened, and my heart actually wept for the poor kid. This must be terrible for him. His dad's in the hospital, he's been accused of being a serial killer various times today, and we're not giving him a ride home so he has to stand alone in the dark.

Well, I wasn't going to leave him in such a state. Who knows what he'd do unsupervised? I'm not being held responsible for this kid hurting himself, and I'm definitely not giving Mr Yagami's heart more reason to give out.

Slinking back over, I gave the younger boy a hearty pat on the back and spoke quietly just so he could hear. "Light, I sympathise with you. I really do. From your perspective, this sucks."

Sucks was a bit of an understatement really. Kira has half of the globe actively chasing after him and the death penalty waiting at the finish line. I'd say that Light's situation is more like the figurative embodiment of being crushed alive - peine forte et dure style. But sucks works just as well.

"I mean, essentially you're stuck," I continued. "You have no way of proving or disproving your innocence, and that's frustrating. Don't think too much on it. If you aren't Kira, it'll become apparent to us at some point. Just be patient."

The boy's head nodded slowly, seeming to understand my words, and I offered a halfhearted smile, slipping away from him and heading towards the vehicle in which a very impatient detective sat waiting.

Reaching the edge of the pavement, I hesitated before stepping into the car's interior, craning my neck in his direction and asking, "By the way, do you have a way to get home? It's late."

Light shrugged. "I'll call another taxi."

"Are you sure? I would offer you a ride home, but it's not my car."

God, I wish it was though. If I had the amount of money to purchase just one model from L's assortment of motor vehicles (which I _knew_ he had, courtesy of my prying sessions with Watari), I could probably end world hunger in a fortnight.

The boy in question smiled. "Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks a lot though."

Nodding, I smiled back as genuinely as possible. "Alright. Goodnight, then."

I settled in my own seat and closed the door before I could listen for a response, releasing a tired sigh. The car then drove off, leaving Light behind in the dust, stood alone under the dim yellow light that flooded from the hospital doors.

Mere moments after we pulled onto the main road, the detective (who'd magically acquired a bag of candy) spun to face me. "What did you tell him?"

Ignoring the spontaneous emergence of confectionary, I waved my hands haphazardly. "Just something to reassure him. This is exactly the kind of thing that people hurt themselves over. Being told you might be Kira isn't exactly a light accusation - excuse the pun. I just didn't want our suspect to do something stupid, like fling himself off a bridge."

"I find it unlikely that a person as mentally strong as Light Yagami would resort to suicide in the face of fire, but I suppose a little reassurance can't hurt."

I was about to retort that ' _damn right, a little reassurace wouldn't hurt considering the circumstances_ ', but L was quicker to speak.

"By the way, who was the person that you encountered this afternoon?" He asked, suddenly reminding me of the girl with those icy eyes who I'd met earlier. "Judging by the reaction you gave the second time I called, I assume they had something interesting to say."

"A girl called Kiyomi Takada. She claims to be Light's girlfriend," I informed him. "According to her, Light has been acting strangely ever since the ceremony - 'distant' in her words."

His eyes practically lit up, and I chuckled. "I thought you'd like to hear that. I managed to get her cell number if ever you wanted to speak to her yourself."

He shook his head. "I don't think that will be necessary right now, but I appreciate the effort. That kind of behaviour might suggest that Light is paranoid about the accusation. Kira is well aware that I'm hunting him, so meeting me in person could only serve to put him off guard."

I shrugged, stealing a single boiled sweet from his bag whilst he went off on his tangent. "You're right, it might be paranoia. Or it could be curiousity. Or suspicion. Or awe. You did throw a huge bombshell on him. 'I'm L' wasn't exactly subtle - or believable, for that matter. Maybe he just needed time to chew that mouthful."

"Perhaps so," he said quietly, brushing a thumb against his lips. "He does seem rather comfortable in my presence now. If he did need time to process the possibility of me being L, then he has adapted rather quickly. It has only been two days after all."

I could sense the underlying tone of distrust to that sentence, and narrowed my eyes sceptically. "You're saying you think it's all an act?"

"I'm not quite sure. He does seem to be acting genuinely innocent. To go so far as to sacrifice your own freedom just to prove you aren't guilty..." he trailed off, whisking his head round to face mine. "What are your thoughts?"

With a huff, I looked away, shaking my head slowly. "That's an impossible question to answer, Ryuzaki. The problem with judging guilt based on the way the accused act is that it's really difficult to tell when someone is being genuine and when someone is trying to deceive you."

"You see, when accused, most people go off on a total rant, yelling and screaming that it wasn't them or that they didn't do it. Typically, this is the reaction of someone who's innocent. They become hysterical because they're so frightened of the repercussions and, obviously, don't want to be arrested for something they didn't do. However, those who are guilty - particularly the ones who don't have the strongest emotional walls - can respond to an allegation in the exact same way."

"As if that wasn't bad enough though, because of the whole confusion that yelling and screaming leads to, innocent people have come to believe that if they start acting erratic, the investigators will be more inclined to believe that they're guilty. So, they start to act cool and calm, answering all the questions they're asked without raising an issue. Again, guilty people will do the exact same thing to throw investigators off their scent. They believe that by not getting aggressive or defensive that they'll appear less suspicious."

The detective looked vaguely confused by that truckload of information, so I summarised it for him.

"Essentially, there's no textbook method to prove a person's innocence because everyone reacts differently, and also because most bad guys are freaking geniuses that know how to beat the system."

He hummed, seemingly impressed by the depth of my explanation. "Interesting analysis."

I practically glowed with pride. "Thanks."

By this point, I could sense that we had reached a state of equilibrium and took the comfortable silence as an invitation to pose a potentially risky question.

"Hey, this might seem a bit forward, but can I crash at your room tonight?"

The reaction I got was brimming with mismatched emotion; confusion, wariness, and scepticsm all blended so harshly that L's expression may as well have been one of Picasso's paintings.

Okay, yeah, I crossed the line. Bad idea.

Realising how weird and suspicious this must be, I smiled to lighten the mood. When he didn't falter, I pressed further, putting on my best puppy face. "Please?"

Again, no change.

"Oh, come on," I groaned. "You know what's up. My method of transportation is in a sour mood, and I just don't want to walk all that way tomorrow morning."

God, it was such a trek. I was just thinking about it and I was already tired. Don't get me wrong, I loved walking. It's refreshing, and relaxing, and healthy for both your mind and body, but it's so tiring. I'm already appropriate to cast as a zombie in a horror movie, so I didn't really want to push my exhausted body any further.

Finally, he asked, "Where would you sleep?"

Oh! My hopes were looking up.

"Whereever you're not sleeping."

That clearly meant I could sleep anywhere because L _did not_ sleep.

Not wanting to appear pushy, I quickly added, "I'll steal a pillow and sleep on the floor if it's such a big problem."

The detective contemplated this for a minute longer before saying, "As long as you don't disturb me, I don't see a problem."

Relief washed over me and I had the urge to fist pump the air in silent celebration. "Thank you. I'll make it up to you at some point. I'll buy you a tub of ice cream or something."

"I'll hold you to that."

I laughed. "Whatever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 9000 words again! Phew I am on a roll. The DBZ meme would be so proud. 
> 
> Physical contact wow~ L willingly put his hand on another human being. That means we're finally making progress woohoo. If you guys weren't already aware, this whole fluffy love stuff is going to be the slowest burn to ever burn, so I hope you all brought your sun cream.
> 
> Also, yay Takada made an appearance! I think that in terms of the DN fanfiction universe, Takada is very underappreciated. She's hardly ever used outside of the canon plotline so I thought I'd intergrate her into the chapter and have some heart to heart with her. Besides, I have a very small guilty pleasure for her (and Mikami. Oh just you wait for him to show up) that I like to indulge, so here you go! Have some Lady Takada!
> 
> Sorry about taking so long to post this. I actually had it finished (though not polished) by Saturday, but I've had to revise for the mock exams I'm sitting this week. Wish me luck!!


	9. Chapter Eight

I didn't know much about sleepovers, but from all those cheesy teenage chick-flicks, I'd gotten the gist. Sleepovers were supposed to be cute-cuddly-cultish gatherings between close friends; they were fulfilled with pillow fights, and nail painting, and sexual truths and dares.

  
It was supposed to be _fun_.

  
This was just _weird_.

  
As promised, I'd been graciously taken under the wing of the detective for the evening. We'd made a quick pit stop by my hotel before heading to his place so I could grab some essentials: deodorant, toothpaste, toothbrush, a change of clothes, etcetera. As I was exiting the building, I saw Chris’ car in the parking complex and briefly considered stopping by his hotel room to let him know where I was staying for the night. However, I was feeling hugely petty that evening, so all he got was my cold shoulder and jankily adjusted wing mirrors (he should just be grateful I didn't punch through his windscreen, the prat).

  
Both Watari and L were very accommodating given the extremely short notice. Neither of them grumbled or complained. Watari, bless him, even ordered me room service, seeing as I hadn't eaten since that morning. I was completely taken aback by the gesture - no, rather by the entire opportunity. I'd been partially flippant when asking L to take me in for the night; I never fully expected him to say _yes_!

  
Out of courtesy, I'd stayed up with the detective for a couple more hours, discussing and debunking potential theories (in other words: talking shit) about our prime suspect. There wasn't much to discuss, other than the fact that ‘ _oh wow, Light Yagami has skills_ ’ and the conversation grew tedious pretty quickly. Eventually, most likely due to our lack of invigorating conversational topics, I succumbed to fatigue and retired to bed.

Here arised my main issue: _sleeping_.

I had no pyjamas. It's not that I forgot to bring any with me (I'm not that stupid). I just didn't own any. Sleeping with clothes felt weird and uncomfortable, so in hotels, I always slept in the bare minimum. This didn't seem wrong to me. If I paid for it, it was my bed; I didn't have to share my bed with anyone, so no one could judge.

  
However, what I hadn't taken into account was the fact that I might not own the bed I was sleeping in.

  
L had generously allowed me to use his room to sleep in, saying that he was going to stay up working for the rest of the night. I didn't protest; it was highly preferable to crashing on the couch (or the floor), and I definitely wasn't going to turn down the opportunity to sleep in a five star bed! However, as soon as I'd slipped behind the panelled door, briefly taking a moment to gawk at the splendour of his room, I realised the extremity of my dilemma

  
Ultimately, after a few dramatic minutes of sheer panic and red-hot humiliation, I deigned to sleep in my underwear. In L’s bed. In _my superior’s_ bed. Although I knew that he rarely (if ever) slept in his bed and - judging from how high maintenance this hotel was - the staff probably changed the sheets daily, it was mortifying nonetheless.

  
Another loud rendition of an old 90s song shook me awake the following day, and the confusion as to where I was slumbering was completely swamped by my ulterior feelings of embarrassment.

  
With red cheeks and a shameful scowl, I crawled out of my cocoon and made the bed.

  
As I smoothed out the white sheets, I took a quick glance at my phone, noticing that the time currently read as 8:30am.

  
“Crap,” I groaned, throwing my phone across the room without a care. Inwardly, I kicked myself for doing something so stupid as forgetting to reset my alarm.

The earliness of my alarm allotted time for my strenuous morning routine - a quick breakfast, my beauty regime, and the trek across the city - none of which I'd have to do in such a rush now that my accommodation was my destination. That gave me at least an hour to kill, and I refused to sit and mope around in a hotel suite for the full sixty minutes.

  
I slunk out of the room dressed in my coat and boots, flashing Watari a smile as I passed him in the living area, and offering to make him a cup of tea - which he politely declined. Crossing into the next room, I spotted L perched in the exact same place I'd left him the previous night, sorting through a stack of papers. I was mildly intrigued as to what he was up to, but decided I was way too exhausted to start analysing Kira’s paradoxical hubris so early in the day. So, instead, I brushed past, offering him a friendly “Good morning.”

  
Craning his neck, he looked my form up and down, then looked at the clock, and raised a brow in question.

  
Forcing the humiliated blush to remain dormant, I explained the situation. “My alarm went off too early. I forgot to set it for a later time. Once I'm up, I can't get back to sleep, so I figured I'd go out and buy myself something for breakfast. You want anything?”

  
The offer of food seemed to interest him. “Where are you going?”

  
“I saw a Western bakery about a block down, so I might scope out what they're selling,” I replied, shrugging as I buttoned the front of my coat.

  
His eyes turned hopeful, gleaming with childlike wonder. “Do you think they'll have any pastries?”

  
Of course that's what he wanted. L definitely did seem like the kind of guy to indulge himself on an assortment of pastries every morning instead of having a healthy, balanced breakfast. If that was the case, he'd love it in France. I wonder if he'd ever been to France (who am I kidding? He probably has a house there).

  
“I'll see what they've got. Anything specific?”

  
The man looked away in thought, likely browsing his mental menu of sugary cuisine, and then he seemed to come to a conclusion.

  
“Surprise me.”

  
_Fuck_. I was hoping he wouldn't say that.

  
I really hated when people told me to surprise them. It's a good idea if you know the person well enough to differentiate between their likes and dislikes, but I didn't have the faintest clue what L’s preferences were. Sure, I'd seen him eat pretty much every sugary food item on the planet by this point, but that didn't mean he liked every sweet confectionary in existence. It's like the whole deal with licourice or marzipan; both are sweet, but both require a very acquired taste. What if I bought him something he didn't like? If he didn't eat it, then what would I do? Eat it myself? Give it to someone else? Toss it in the trash (in other words, waste my money)?

  
It's okay. On the off chance that he didn't like it, I'd give it to Chris as a sort of peace offering (or shove it down his throat. After all, he'd ignored me for a full day and a half, and made me walk over three miles. _He_ should be the one apologising to _me_ ).

  
“Alright,” I sighed. “I'll see you in a bit, then.”

 

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, I arrived back with a plain bagel and strawberry danish wrapped up in a brown paper bag. I'd sprinted back to the hotel at breakneck speed to ensure that the pasteries were still warm upon consumption - which only made me hungrier - and L cocked an inquisitive brow at my dishevelled and sweaty appearance when I slumped against the doorframe.  
Through my exhaustion, I managed to flash him a halfhearted smile, holding up the bag like it was some prize that I'd won for my hardships.

  
I produced the danish from the bag, relieved to feel its warmth emanating through the packaging, dropping it into his outstretched palms. “Et voilà. Enjoy.”

  
The man nodded his head - the only thanks I'd get - as I slid into the seat next to him, whipping out my own breakfast and, seeing as there were no plates available, used the brown bag as a makeshift dish to avoid getting crumbs on the floor (I didn't want the hotel staff to hunt me down for tarnishing their hard work).

  
After devouring my meal like a ravenous dog, I took a quick glance at the receipt, and grimaced at the long row of zeroes, wholeheartedly regretting my decision to buy breakfast.

  
A head drifting into my peripheral view snatched my attention. “How much did it cost you?”

  
I crumpled the paper in my hand before he had a chance to look, laughing nervously. “Why? Are you paying?”

  
“That was the idea.”

  
Waving a hand, I tucked the receipt into my pocket (there was no way I'd toss in the trash; he'd probably dig it out like a scrounging rat after seeing my awkward reaction). “Don't bother. It's my treat. You took me in for the night with no notice. It's the least I can to do to repay you.”

  
He hummed, but didn't push, and I released a mental sigh of relief. The momentary release didn't last too long, however, when I peeled open my bag and subtly pulled out my purse.

  
Glancing into it, I was forced to withhold a cry of despair at the sight of metaphorical cobwebs lining the empty interior. I'd taken out the final wad of cash from my safe the previous week, and now all that remained were a few meagre scraps of Yen - definitely not enough to sustain me for another month.

  
Oh man, the guys back home were going to kill me. If it wasn't bad enough that I'd signed up to a potentially suicidal investigation without their permission, I'd also managed to completely spend myself dry. So much for dying with my honour intact.

  
Angrily shoving the purse back into my bag, I swallowed a sigh, slumping back against the seat. The ever observant L, even as he chomped noisily on his pastry, didn't miss a thing.

  
“You made a face,” he said.

  
“I did not make a face.”

  
“You made a face.”

  
“And what if I did make a face?”

  
“Are you short on money?”

  
Good God. He was too smart for his own good.

  
“No,” I answered with a shake of my head. My response was too quick, however - too soon. The man raised a disbelieving brow, and I could only sigh in response. “Maybe a little bit.”

  
“And yet you offered to buy breakfast,” he pointed out, adopting a more satirical tone. “That’s not the smartest decision you've made.”

  
The look I sent the detective was one of pure hostility. “Are you complaining? Because I will take that pastry away from you if you are.”

  
“I'm not complaining.” He argued defensively, not so discreetly turning himself away from me. “I just think it's illogical to spend money on others that can easily afford their own luxuries.”

  
“Okay, _Mr Elite_ , now you're bragging.” I scolded, swiping the pastry from his hands and holding it an arm’s lengths away. His eyes turned desperate, and his hand followed my outstretched arm, trying to retrieve his stolen treat - a move which landed him a harsh kick in the chest, which he'd stupidly left exposed to my foot.

  
As he settled back in his position, albeit angrily, I held my hands up. “Listen, my money isn't my own. I'm not exactly the most amazing detective on earth so I don't have a steady inflow of cases to work on.”

  
The _unlike you_ was left unsaid, but I knew he'd heard it anyway.

  
“What I get is an allowance, granted to me by St Mary’s,” I continued to elaborate. “Before I enter a country, I estimate how much money I'll need to sustain me for a few weeks in said country. Then, depending on how well the interest rates are doing, they'll send me a certain amount of money through. I don't want to ask them for more money because then they'll have to ask the reason why.”

  
His face was blank. “I don't see the issue.”

  
He just didn't get it did he? Did he not wonder why I worked anonymously, or why I didn't get to choose what cases I investigated. Sometimes he could be so stupid.

  
I waved him off. “Nevermind. It doesn't matter. This isn't really something I need to discuss with you.”

  
L seemed to disagree. “How much do you pay for your hotel room?”

  
I flinched, thinking of the heaps of mould growing under the sink and the questionable stains on the wallpaper. “Too much for what it's worth.”

  
“Is it that terrible?”

  
“Oh yeah,” I chuckled. “This place is a palace in comparison.”

  
“In that case, I'll pay your hotel gratuities.”

  
A dry laugh was torn from my throat. “Fuck off, no you won't.”

  
L became a tad standoffish, likely taken aback by my harsh tone. “That language was unnecessary. My offer is genuine: if you require money, I'm able to give you some.”

  
“As generous as it is, I don't need your charity, Ryuzaki. I'll manage fine on my own.”

  
The conversation fizzled out there, but not before L managed to bite out one last comment. “Are you going to eat that?”

  
I glanced down at the sugar drizzled dough puff in my hands, strawberry jam oozing out of each aperture in its crisscrossed lattice, and pulled a face of mild disgust.

  
“No,” I sighed, sliding the pastry back to him. “I don't even like pastries.”

  
L’s brief look of relief twisted into one of pure horror. He was pulling the expression that a child would if you told them that Santa Claus wasn't real. It genuinely made me feel bad.

  
“What?” I held my hands up in defence. “I'm not saying I don't like the taste. It just feels too fattening. There's way too much sugar, and too many calories to burn off afterwards.”

  
L was not having it, edging towards me with _Diabetes_ ™ in hand. “Here. Try it.”

  
“No, I don't want it.” I protested, pushing him away hafheartedly. He was adamant, leaning closer, despite my objections. Raising my leg, I once again placed my foot against his chest, pushing him away from me. “ _I don't want it_!”

  
Without warning, my thigh was locked into a tight grip and I was flipped onto my back, unwittingly pulling my assaultant along with me. The man landed on my chest harshly, effectively suffocating me, something I hadn't expected from someone so lithe. Frowning, I tried to push him back, aggravated upon seeing that my pushes didn't receive the desired response. Instead, all I got was a pastry in my face and a persistent detective hovering overhead like an annoying fly. For someone so skinny, he was surprisingly strong.

  
He paid no mind to our awkward position, even as I squirmed under him to get away, swatting aimlessly in the direction of his face.

  
“Ryuzaki! Get off!”

  
He continued to dodge my hands. “One bite and I'll leave you alone.”

  
“Get fucked, no!” It wasn't said in anger. In fact, it took me a good few seconds to realise I was laughing.

  
Without warning, the door of the room creaked open and I shot upwards, shoving the detective off of me in the process, sending him tumbling to the floor. A head stuck through the door, tentatively glancing around the room like one would observe a minefield.

  
Upon seeing who it was, I blanked. “Oh. Morning, Aizawa, Ukita. Hi Matsuda.”

  
Matsuda was too busy hiding his blush, so Aizawa was the only one to respond.

  
“Morning,” he said slowly, bewilderment clear in his tone. “Are we interrupting anything?”

  
I barked out a laugh. “Definitely not.”

  
“I was just trying to get Agent to indulge in her sweet tooth.” L explained, making my humoured expression morph into one of disdain.

  
“I don't have a sweet tooth.”

  
He poked a finger on my direction, accusingly. “Denial.”

  
I rolled my eyes, looping my arms across my chest like a shield. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Sherlock.”

  
“Your self control is admirable,” he continued, leaning far too close for comfort. “But don't you know that restriction only makes the temptation worse?”

  
“What would you know about self control?” I countered, shoving him back. “Everything you do is on impulse.”

  
“That's incorrect.”

  
“Oh really?” I pulled myself onto the balls of my feet and sat like the detective always did, lowering my voice to match his also. “ _Hey, Kira! I'm L. I'm on TV, so that must mean I'm important. Please, try to kill me. Oh, you don't have my name or face? That's interesting. Perhaps that's how you kill criminals. I might die to test my hypothesis, but at least I'll look cool doing it_.”

  
The three men snickered like schoolboys from behind me, and I grinned stupidly. The detective’s face told me that he wasn't impressed, and I had a sudden urge to see how far I could push him. Before I had the chance, sadly, the man’s hand shot out quicker than a viper. I was partly expecting a slap, but all I recieved was a tiny nudge in the side. Not having enough balance in the strange position, I toppled, and glared daggers up at my superior.

  
“I was confident enough that my theory was correct.” When my expression didn't waver, he added, “I survived, didn't I?”

  
“And if your theory was wrong?”

  
“I'm never wrong.”

  
“Famous last words, Ryuzaki,” I reminded him.

  
The sound of the door opening yet again made my head turn, and Watari strode in, a grave look on his face. Oh, this can't be anything good.

  
“Yes, Watari?"

  
“Ryuzaki, something seems to be happening. Turn on Sakura TV.”

  
We did as commanded and switched the television on, switching it to the right channel, and leaning in curiously.

  
A trio of news commentators sat behind a desk, all three wearing faces of solemnity and thinly veiled terror. The background behind them was black, nothing particularly standing out to me, except perhaps a notably familiar symbol that was there also: a large, almost gothic heart with a pair of wings at either side.

  
That was what society had dubbed as Kira's symbol.

  
Well that's just great.

  
"--in other words, all of the reporters and staff here are Kira’s hostages,” the news anchor explained. “Aside from that, we have a professional obligation to share this message with you. I assure you that this is not a hoax, and that Sakura TV is not airing this for the purposes of sensationalism.”

  
"What? How the hell has this been allowed to air?" I whispered, voice low and quiet with disbelief.

  
“Four days ago, our programme director here at Sakura TV received four tapes. After a thorough examination, there could be no doubt that they are from Kira himself."

  
"This might be a scam." I suggested.

  
“Yeah,” Ukita agreed. “Sakura TV is known for that sort of thing.”

  
Matsuda shook his head. “I don't think even Sakura TV would stoop that low. Besides, didn't the news anchor just say this wasn't a hoax?”

  
I couldn't help but scoff at the older man’s naivety. “Well of course he'd say that. What news company admits that their content is fake? He may well be lying.”

  
“He seems to be acting sincere enough,” L piped up, gazing blankly across the room. “Personally, I think it'd be much easier to discuss things when everyone is present."

  
All eyes glanced around and then zeroed in one me. I groaned. “Fine. I'll call him now.”

  
Standing, I put some distance between myself and the others. I had no need to scroll through my contacts as I'd called Chris’ number so frequently within the past few days, and merely had to select the most recent number called, waiting for the dial tone to emit.

  
Let's be polite. There's no need to be crabby. He's going through a tough time. Just be nice.

  
“Hello?”

  
“ _He speaks_! Funny, you didn't seem too conversational the last time I checked.”

  
So much for the nice approach.

  
Chris didn't even bother to stifle the disappointment in his tone. “Oh, its you. Where the hell were you last night?”

  
I rolled my eyes. “The Red Light District, earning my weekly wage.”

  
“I'm serious. I went up to check on you - to _apologise_ , even - and you didn't answer the door. We're in a shady part of town; I thought you'd been taken, or worse.”

  
My heart swelled a little, but pride refused to show it. “Well I was fine. I _am_ fine. I stayed with Ryuzaki.”

  
A mocking laugh sounded in my ear, and I frowned. “Of course you did,” Chris drawled. “Leave it to L to swoop in and save the day. It's a good thing he's so generous. God knows you need someone to take care of you.”

  
“Hey, I can take care of myself, thank you very much. I don't need you - or anyone else - to babysit me. I never have. If anyone needs to be taken care of, it's you.”

  
“Oh, fuck you too then.”

  
An irritated sigh tore its way from my throat. “Listen, I'm not calling to argue. You need to get to HQ.”

  
“Why? What's Kira done now?”

  
What hadn't he done was the better question.

  
“It's too long to explain. Just get down here please.”

  
“I'm already en route. No more than two minutes away.”

  
I nodded, ready to commend him for his convenient timing, when the realisation hit me. Looking warily at two police officers across the room, I lowered my voice. “Wait, are you driving right now?”

  
“ _Yeah_.”

  
“Wha- why?! Hang up the phone, you dolt.”

  
“Gladly.”

  
The line went dead, and I simmered hotly, biting back a long series of curses. The men in the room looked at me with concern, and I shrugged them off.

  
“He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  
“Trouble in paradise?” Aizawa joked.

  
I scoffed. “If Nazi Germany was paradise, then yes.”

  
Directing my attention back to the TV, I noticed that the visuals had changed. The screen was now white, showcasing the word _KIRA_ in large black scrawl. I rolled my eyes. Oh, so Kira’s artsy? How quaint. At least he has some other hobbies besides murder; that's healthy. Good for him.

  
I'd missed the first half of what he said, but from what I could gather, he was introducing himself to the world (yeah, as though he even needed an introduction. He was practically an A-list celebrity).

  
“If this tape is being aired on April 18th at 5:59pm as I requested, then the time right now is 5:59 - forty seven, forty eight, forty nine.” A momentary pause, and then, “Please, change the channel to Taiyo TV. The news anchor will die of a heart attack at exactly six o'clock.”

  
Breath catching, we all looked towards the detective for instructions, which he gave. “Change it.”

  
The screen flickered once, and then the visuals changed. Surely enough, a man lay there dead, sprawled back against his chair. I closed my eyes, and released a shaky breath.

  
“Change it back.” L looked towards his caretaker. “Watari, I might need you to bring me another TV. On second thought, make it two.”

  
Oh yeah, just let the elderly man seek out and haul two massive TVs back to the room. No biggie. He might break his back, but that's fine.

  
Part of me wanted to go and held the poor man, but I knew I'd be more useful where I was currently (besides, wouldn't Watari just politely decline my help anyway?).

  
As the old man slipped out, Chris slipped in, nonchalantly coming to stand beside me.

  
“Glad to see you made it in one piece.”

  
He bit the inside of his cheek, likely holding back something nasty. “I'm going to ignore that comment. What's going on?”  
“Kira’s address to the world.” I rolled my eyes. “A big load of melodramatic hoo-ha if you ask me. He's already killed one man.”

  
“And he's just killed another,” Chris said, gesturing to the TV, eyes widening.

  
My head reeled back, only to see the sorry sight of another man slumped back against his chair, being shaken vainly by those around him.

  
“You see? It's crazy.” I murmured, narrowing my eyes. “I mean, why would Kira feel the need to prove himself? Isn't the world already aware as to what he's capabale of?” I paused, considering the idea of something _impossible_. "Unless... you don't think..."

"It's not Kira," the blonde finished.

I opened my mouth to respond, but whatever I had prepared to say would've been easily drowned out by the sudden yell coming from the man perched on his chair before us. "Stop this broadcast! We can't let him finish!"

  
Matsuda and Ukita were on it right away - both going straight for their phones - whilst I stood there, unsure of what to do. I exchanged a nervous glance with the man beside me, both of us knowing full well the extremity of this scenario. This was one of those circumstances where shit always hit the fan - and fast. If it caused L - a typically quiet and reserved person - to have an outburst like that, then whatever Kira had to say must've been gravely serious.

  
Barely a few moments passed before the two police men withdrew from their devices. Aizawa came to the inevitable conclusion first. "It's no good. I'm trying, but none of my contacts at the station have their phones on."

  
"No one’s picking up at reception either." Matsuda added.

  
Well isn't that a perfect coincidence?

  
“Of course they aren't picking up." I told the two officers. "Kira's trying to get his message across to the world. Do you really think he wants to be interrupted? He's most likely threatened those who work at the station."

  
Their faces fell, but both were adamant that they would get through to somebody, diligently dialling numbers like their lives depended on it. It made me grin. Determination. That's good. It's one thing we need in this investigation.

  
"Damn it!" I heard someone mutter from behind me, wrenching the smile from my face.

  
I spun on my heel to see Ukita running for the door. Just what the hell did he think he was he doing?

  
My question was answered when Ukita ripped open the door, and turned to us, fire burning in his eyes. "I'll stop this broadcast myself if that's what it takes."

  
_Oh no_.

  
"Ukita, wait!" I shouted, beginning to make my way over to the door, which the officer had just slammed behind him.

  
"Hey, where are you going?" I heard Chris shout across to me as my hand grasped the door handle.

  
I wheeled upon him with raised brows. "Isn't it obvious? I'm going after him.”

  
The man didn't seem too persuaded by that comment alone, and I grunted impatiently. “Think about it. What if Kira’s down there - at the station? It's not unimaginable. He's already cut off all external contact to avoid being interrupted. What makes you think he wouldn't take it one step further?”

  
When my friend refused to back down, I turned to the best alternative. “Ryuzaki, he's going to get himself killed.”

  
Seeing as the detective refused to acknowledge my request, I decided to pull out the big guns. “ _Please_.”

  
The man didn't look at me, but slowly inclined his head. “Go.”

  
I didn't need to be told twice.

  
Turning away, I once again reached for the door, only this time, I was stopped when a hand grabbed my arm. Frustrated beyond belief, a yell bubbled deep in my throat and I was more than ready to scream bloody murder at my restrainer, when suddenly a cool metallic item was shoved into my hand. Looking down, I saw it was the keys for Chris’ Lexus.

  
“Take my car. You'll get to him quicker.”

  
Speechless, I nodded my head in thanks, and threw open the door. I forsook the elevator in my haste and bolted straight down the staircase, yelling to my associate as I went. Other hotel patrons looked at me strangely, and might've said a word or two about my conduct, but I was ignorant to it.

  
The adrenaline was gushing through me like a tidal wave, powering each step forward. I saw Ukita up ahead, but he was too far out of earshot to possibly hear me, no matter how loud I yelled his name. This only fuelled my legs to move faster.  
Outside, Chris’ car shone in the streetlight like a mirage in the vast Sahara, and I made swift work of unlocking the driver’s door as I approached it. Sliding in, I realised quickly that my tampering with the wingmirrors had completely distorted my view of the street behind. Cursing myself and my petty nature, I pulled out, relying solely on the view from my front mirror, and prayed that I wouldn't end up causing an accident tonight.

  
As I drove, I spotted the police vehicle that I knew Ukita would be inside, and increased my speed. I was hoping to cut him off, or at least signal for him to pull over - which would be ironic, considering the man’s profession.

  
It was too late when I realised that Ukita had a rather unfair advantage in this fond chase - police sirens.

  
“Damn it,” I muttered, unsure of whether to laugh or scream at the man’s resourcefulness. “Clever bastard.”

  
Nearby cars manoeuvred to key him through, and I overtook what few vehicles I could, frustrated beeping coming from either sides of me. Somewhere in my mind, I knew I would have no chance of catching up to him now - he’d turned the sirens on, and he knew the layout of the city much better than I did. In that moment, I damned myself for not ever getting his phone number. I doubted he'd pick up his phone even if I did call, but at least it'd give me a greater shot of stopping him then what I was currently doing.

  
Carelessly, I drove through a red light, swerving by the cars crossing perpendicular to me, ignoring the sharp sound of tyres screeching against the asphalt. My eyes flickered up to check the damage: there were a few angry drivers, but no crash at least. A sudden bright flash above me caught my attention - a speed camera - and I cussed.

  
Fuck it, they can fine me. See if I care.

  
In the distance, I could see Ukita making a sharp right turn, in the same direction that a street sign was pointing. I gave my best effort to translate the kanji, and realised it was leading towards the one place I needed to be: the Sakura TV station.  
My foot slammed against the accelerator and I swung around the bend, seeing Ukita step out of his car a few hundred yards ahead. I pushed the car further, _faster_ , slamming on the brakes when I noticed the group of people forming around the entrance of the building - a news reporting crew, it seemed.

  
I stumbled as I pulled myself from the car, the adrenal hormone still racing in my veins. I'd only just stepped onto the pavement when I heard the sounds of pain.

  
My head snapping up, I looked towards where the sounds were coming from, and barely managed to hold back a cry as I watched Ukita fall to the ground.

  
_I was too late_.

  
For a minute, my brain refused to process what my eyes saw. Lights faded into haze, colours blended together, and my surroundings swirled into one massive blur. I couldn't form coherent words. All that I could manage was a shaky whimper, and I cupped my mouth with my hands.

  
A vibration on my right thigh, and then my ringtone. Wordlessly, I pulled the phone out of my pocket with a trembling hand.

  
“Ryuzaki,” I answered, my voice no louder than a whisper. “Are you seeing him?”

  
“Yes.”

  
Guilt clenched tightly within my chest, and the sight of Ukita’s strained corpse forced my gaze downwards. “I’m sorry. I was too late.”

  
“You're only human. You did everything you could have done.”

  
Sorrowfully, I looked back at the body. “But it wasn't enough, was it?”

  
Silence was my only responder, and it infuriated me. I couldn't bare to listen to the muffled ambience. The hushed tones. The steady breaths. It riled me up, and set loose my anxieties like a pack of dogs - all in one quiet instant.

  
Every instinct within my being emplored me to run; to scream; to cry. I couldn't move. From head to toe, my body was trembling - weak - but every muscle in my core was clenched to the point of pain, convulsing with every raspy breath I took.  
I yearned for human contact. Oh, I wanted it so desperately. I _needed_ it. I needed someone to wrap me in an embrace and tell me everything was okay, or to slap me back to my senses and send me running.

  
I needed something - a distraction. Anything other than the silence.

  
“Ryuzaki, please.” I was begging him now, and it made me sound so pitiful. If I was in my right frame of mind, I would've kicked myself for sounding so frail. “Please, I don't know what to do.”

  
From the other side of the line, I could hear his breath hitch, if only a little. “Agent, I see you.”

  
He saw me? When had I moved?

  
“You're too close to the station. Move away.”

  
I didn't. I stepped closer.

  
“ _Agent_.” His tone was harsher this time; demanding. “Do not engage.”

  
“I can't just leave him there!” I argued, my voice steadily raising.

  
“You need to. I'm starting to reconsider my theory. If I'm right, then you might be in danger.”

  
My foot dragged against the pave as I came to a sudden halt. “What do you mean?”

  
“You were right.” Silence again. “Kira is present at the station.”

  
That was enough to persuade me to take a good few steps away from the vicinity. Keeping my head low, I tucked myself behind an alley wall, keeping my eyes firmly planted on the scene all the while.

  
“It's highly unlikely he knew Ukita’s name prior to his murder, meaning he may only need a face to kill.”

  
“No way. Are you sure?”

  
“Nearly positive,” he muttered grimly, and I shook my head repeatedly in denial. This couldn't be happening. Not now.

  
The world was spinning. Everything I'd believed in previously had been built on a misconception - a miscalculation in our algorithm - and it had made me arrogant. I'd walked into this investigation with the equivalent of a _Get Out of Jail Free_ card. I'd been so confident. I was convinced that I would be safe; that I would have nothing to worry about.

I was the Trump card. I was our Ace. The Queen on the chess board.

Now, like Marie Antoinette, I was just another head on the guillotine block.

  
This night was really putting everything into perspective.

  
“You need to come back now. Do not show your face to anyone.”

  
Scanning the area for any suspicious behaviour, I pulled my hood over my face. “Okay. I'll be back as soon as I can.”  
He hung up before I could even finish my sentence, and I was glad for it, because my voice had already begun to quiver (out of sadness or fear, I honestly couldn't tell). As soon as the line went dead, I immediately dialled emergency services.

  
“You're through to the police.” It was a woman’s voice - friendly, yet stern. “How can I help?”

  
“Ambulance please.”

  
“Alright. Where are you, miss?”

  
“Outside the Sakura TV station. A man has collapsed, and he's not breathing.”

  
There was the sound of some typing, and then she spoke, “A team has been dispatched. They're on their way.”

  
“Tell them to cover their faces,” I added quickly.

  
The dispatcher made a noise of confusion. “Why, miss? Is there a toxic substance in the area? A fire? Miss, if fire services are also required--“

  
“They're not required. Just do as I say and tell them to cover their faces, otherwise they'll end up in the same state as their patient. This is for their safety. Trust me.”

  
I hung up before she had a chance to respond, and shoved my phone haphazardly in my pocket. Frankly, I couldn't care less if she was confused. I just hoped she took the initiative and listened to my goddamn advice before someone else was wrongly murdered.

  
It seemed wrong to just stand there. It was disprespectful on so many levels. Ukita was just laying there, flat on his face, against the concrete; his limbs bent at awkward angles, solidifying in place as rigor mortis began to set in. I couldn't move him. I couldn't even cover the body. He was laid out like some sort of butchered animal for anyone and everyone to see - and everyone could see. Even though they'd retreated after Ukita collapsed, I'd noticed that the reporting crew hadn't chosen to turn off the camera; it just kept on rolling. All of Japan was watching. Ukita’s associates - his friends and family - might've been watching.

  
I started crying, but I couldn't really place why. It was only natural, I suppose. When a human looks at another dead human, our instincts tell us to feel disgusted and distraught. I didn't know Ukita too well, and he wasn't a member of the task force who I'd consider myself particularly close to. Still, he was a man I'd worked with, and someone who strived towards the same goal as I. He was a man brave enough to compromise his own life to save the lives of those who (arguably) might not even deserve the right to live. He was a husband, and a father; a son, and a friend. Now, he was a corpse, and his death was being showcased to the country like some sort of spectacle.

  
When had the world become so _wrong_?

  
The ambulance arrived not five minutes after I'd called, lights flashing; sirens blaring. Thankfully, the dispatcher had taken my advice and told the paramedics to cover up. Not a single inch of skin was visible under the heavy biohazardous clothing and protective goggles. To them, they probably seemed overdressed for such a calm and natural scenario. I wouldn't blame them if they did. I was just thankful that although I couldn't save Ukita, I may have saved a few more innocent lives.

  
They checked his vitals, searching vigorously for a pulse, or some sign of life. Hands against his neck. Hands against his wrist. Hands against his thigh. After a long minute, the paramedic pulled away, shaking their head and thus confirming the inevitable.

  
From the back of the vehicle, I could see someone pull out defibrillator panels, but the other just waved it off. Even if he could be revived, it would be too late. By now, the lack of oxygen would've caused severe brain cell death.

  
I waited patiently from the sidelines until the medical team had placed him in a black body bag and moved him into the back of the vehicle, closing the doors behind them. Then, and only then, did I trudge back to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo I'm back from my vacation, and boy, I am burnt to a crisp. A waiter genuinely thought I was blushing at something my dad said, but really it was just bad sunburn. 
> 
> I was going to include a lot more in this chapter (hence why it might seem a little boring) but the word count tolled up to around 13,000 and nobody wants that in their life, so I cut the chapter in two lmao. Honestly though, I was having so much fun writing the first part of this chapter. And then the death happened, and wow, that depressed me for a good hour or so. 
> 
> The next chapter should be up very soon. Remember to let me know what you think! Reading your guys' comments always brightens my day <3


	10. Chapter Nine

"You called the emergency services."

I hadn't even stepped through the door when the man spoke, but it was obvious enough that the comment was aimed at me.

With glassy eyes, I looked upwards, nodding. "I did. I told you that I wasn't going to leave him there."

"It was a clever decision to tell the paramedics to cover their faces," L continued, glancing over at me only once. "Thank you for taking the initiative."

Again, I nodded, but didn't have the heart to speak to return his gratitude. I couldnt even express shock at recieving a genuine word of thanks from the detective. I was just numb.

Aizawa shuffled over to where I stood sulking, surprising me when he placed a hand on my shoulder. His eyes were downcast, greyed by grief, and no longer shining with the determination I'd seen earlier that evening. It saddened me.

"Thank you." His voice was barely above a choked murmur, but I could tell he was being sincere. "I appreciate what you did - we all do."

Attempting a smile, I placed my hand on his. "He would've done the same for any of us."

I actually wasn't sure if that statement was true, but that's just what people say when a sacrifice is made, right? Is it ever true?

As Aizawa withdrew back into his shell, a figure approached me from behind. From the faint smell of cigarettes and men's cologne, I could already guess who it was.

Chris clicked his tongue, wrapping an arm around my shoulders in a comforting gensture. "You're a moron," he said gently, unlike the mocking tone I had anticipated.

His soft tone unscrewed the lid of my emotional bottle - which had been storing the torrent of emotions that had accumulated over the past few days - and my eyes began to water for the second time that night.

"I'm sorry," I sniffed, wiping my eyes before any else could see the dawn of my emotional meltdown. "I might've cost you a few points on your licence."

The blonde stiffened, but brushed it off. "Don't worry about it. Besides, I don't think speeding is the police's main concern right now."

I hummed in agreement, but I wasn't really paying attention. By this point, I'd stopped paying attention to anything - the broadcast being one example. I preferred to take refuge in my thoughts rather than listen to Kira's bullshit propositions. Instead, I pondered, thinking back to the time when L pulled his first media stunt.

If I was to go along with the new theory that Kira - if this even was the same Kira - only required a face to kill, then that incident would still make a lot of sense. L had never shown his real face at any point during the broadcast, so therefore Kira couldn't kill him. The theory rung true.

Then again, some of the criminals who Kira had murdered had never had their faces revealed to the public, nor had there been any articles regarding their arrest posted on the Internet that contained their image. Although, we had already considered that Kira had access to secure police files, so it wouldn't be too farfetched to think that Kira would still manage to find a picture of his victim, regardless of whether it was made public or not.

Damn. This was all just too confusing.

Right when I was contemplating slamming my head through the nearest wall, a loud shattering of glass disrupted my thoughts. Jumping in surprise, I looked around the room in concern, fearing one of the suite's windows had smashed. It was then that I realised the sound hadn't come from my surroundings, but rather one of the TVs (which I now noticed there were three of; good job Watari). Untangling myself from Chris' arms, I edged closer to the group who'd crowded around the screen, and my eyes widened in astonishment.

A police van had completely demolished - as in _smashed by a wrecking ball_ demolished - the front entrance to the news station building. The doors had been completely torn off their hinges, and the panes shattered, broken glass coating the ground. Tyre marks stained the ground as the van screeched to a halt.

Well, I hoped Sakura TV had insurance.

"That's one way to get into a building without being seen by Kira," someone pointed out.

I shook my head slowly. "Whoever's in there is either the bravest bastard I've ever seen, or completely insane."

Regardless of the driver's questionable sanity, I couldn't help but commend him or her for their efforts. This was exactly the sort of plan we needed in order to stop the broadcast. Besides, the producers at the station deserved the destruction for endorsing such a macabre spectacle, all for the sake of sensationalism. I wasn't a big believer of karma, but this - this was definitely karma.

Suddenly, the eerie shriek of police sirens emitted from the speakers, and I felt anxiety punch a hole through my chest as another police car pulled up outside the building, two cops emerging from it.

Their faces weren't covered.

"So we're not alone," I heard Matsuda say from behind me. "There are still other officers out there who are willing to stand up to Kira."

The poor man actually sounded somewhat relieved, but I couldn't feel further from it.

Had they not just watched what happened to Ukita? Or perhaps wondered why the maniac driving the van had gone to such drastic lengths as to not be seen? Idiots. Poor fucking idiots.

Heaving a sigh, I sank down to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees, cradling myself. This time, I could only sit and watch, waiting for the inevitable. There'd be no point in trying to drive back to the station; the men would already be dead by the time I got there, and I'd be risking my own neck - something I wasn't willing to do a second time, regardless of the lives that were at stake.

Unwillingly, I thought of Ukita again, and my body trembled.

"Mr Aizawa," L piped up, grasping everyone's attention. "You know deputy director Kitamora's cellphone number, right?"

The other man blinked. "Yeah. Why?"

"Call him." The detective replied, as ambiguously as ever.

The rest of us watched on, bemused, as the the officer called his superior. Once the dial tone began to reverberate, the phone was swiftly snatched out of his hand by the younger man, and held up to his ear. It didn't take very long for the director to answer.

"This is L. There's something I need you to do for me," the detective began to explain, face pinched in a sharp and serious expression. "There may be police officers who will see this broadcast and feel obliged to take action in the name of justice. If you don't take control of this situation quickly, there will be a disaster."

I was sitting close enough to hear the muffled baritone of the director's voice, but I was unable to decipher his response. Though, by the heightened volume alone, I could tell that was he was painicked.

It was only a few beats later that the two police men onscreen collapsed. I watched sombrely, and silently, as did the others present in the room. Chris had come to sit beside me whilst the director and L conversed, and he once again took me in his arms. He was too warm, and it made me uncomfortable, but I didn't move away. I was just content knowing that someone cared, if only a little.

A small beeping emitted from behind me and I craned my neck to see Watari standing near the back of the room, pulling his phone from his breast pocket. He glanced over it once, before raising his head back to standard level.

"Detective superintendent Yagami," he announced.

A nauseating mix of confusion and concern began to churn within me as I absorbed that statement. Shouldn't Mr Yagami still be in hospital? What was he doing calling us here? Perhaps he saw what had happened on the news. Well, that couldn't be any good for his heart.

In front of me, the detective's head whirled around with neck-breaking speed. His typically dead and dogmatic eyes burned with fiery alarm, and he practically barked his command at Watari.

"Call him back immediately and give me the phone!"

I leaned back from the noise, the feeling of trepidation causing palpitations to thrum within my veins. For one as reserved as L to have an outburst like that, it could only mean the situation was escalating out of our control, and that thought struck deep. I buried my head into my knees to hide my poor expression.

Three men had already died within the space of around ten minutes, and God only knew how many more foolhardy officers would puff out their chests and march to their deaths as well. It was madness. Complete and utter madness... and it was all Kira's fault. If he didn't have such a swelling megalomaniacal ego problem, then we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place, and three good men would still be living.

"Mr Yagami," L chimed in, interrupting my mental lament. "So _you're_ the one driving the police van?"

My head sprang up from between my knees like a startled roebuck, and I cast a gaze of disbelief towards the phone bearer. All four of those present released out sounds of amazement, and then some of mild terror.

Did the Chief forget he'd recently suffered a heart attack, or was he asking for another one? He shouldn't even be walking in the case that he'd exert himself, nevermind flooring a police van and completely anhiliating the front half of a public building.

Either way, the man deserved a fucking medal. I was impressed.

My employer, it seemed, did not share my sentiments. "But what about your condition? Are you alright?"

I nearly scoffed. Well, considering the fact he'd successfully managed to exit the hospital building unnoticed (there's no way he would've been discharged in his state), casually seek out a police vehicle, and then proceed to drive said police vehicle into the reception of Sakura TV, I'd say he's doing just swell.

The detective asked that the Chief held the line before switching his attention to the other mobile in his hand (really, this was multitasking at its finest).

"Deputy director Kitamora, it was Chief Yagami who just drove into the building."

A splutter of surprise came from the other line, but L allotted no time for emotional outbursts, pressing forward with, "Are your preparations complete?"

 _Preparations_? I suppose I must have zoned out during that part of the discussion, or maybe this was an already established emergency protocol? Frowning, I scanned the other faces in the room, which all portrayed as much confusion as I was experiencing. Ah. Well, good. At least I wasn't the only one left in the dark.

I watched curiously as the dark haired man abruptly switched devices again, his voice taking on a much sterner air of authority as he spoke.

"Mr Yagami, listen carefully." His words were slow and deliberate; in other words, serious. "In exactly five minutes, I want you to come out the front entrance."

My eyes widened, and I promptly looked back to the TV screens. There was no change.

 _What_? Was L expecting a miracle? If Mr Yagami left the building now, he'd be exposed. Kira would've had to be off on his tea break in order to not notice that, and I felt as though the self proclaimed God wasn't the sort of guy who'd put up his feet for five minutes and indulge himself.

The detective promptly hung up both phones, handing them both back to their respectable owners, and directed his attention to the small televisions once again. As he stared, the rest of us exchanged baffled glances.

Christ Almighty. I hoped he knew what he was doing.

" _Huh_? What's going on?"

I peered forward in response to the officer's cry, curious to see what the big fuss was all about. It was only when I saw at least a hundred armed men dressed fully in black body armour, headgear and all, that I understood. They'd manoeuvred themselves to create a perimeter around the building, riot shields in hand. Large blue buses were parked so the officers could crouch upon them, heightening their perimeter and obstructing the view of the news report team. They were acting as a wall. Brilliant.

Slowly, I turned my head towards the detective, eyes glinting with all the admiration and respect that I'd felt for him when I was young. _This_. This was L. The genius man with ingenious plans. The man who'd stopped an impending war at only age eight. The man who'd surpassed every expectation laid out for him. The man who'd never once failed to solve an investigation that he took on.

This was the side of the strange detective that I'd been waiting to see since I first met him. Needless to say, it was well worth the wait.

Still, even in my awe, I couldn't help but feel the confusion itching at the back of my brain, and I voiced my concerns to the detective.

"Did you really have all this planned out? Just to get Mr Yagami out of the building?"

I thought I was making a decent point. Even though this idea of his was beyond ingenious and meticulously calculated, it was safe to say that it was extreme. There had to be at least fifty - probably more - police officers gathered there. If something happened to go wrong, he'd not only risk the life of the Chief of Police, but also all of those who'd come to his aid. It was a huge gamble, and the stakes were as high as skyscrapers.

"Don't get me wrong," I added, raising my hands in defence. "This is great. Amazing, even! But still, it's a little elaborate, don't you think?"

"It's simply a safety precaution. Despite us knowing that Kira is outside the building, we are unsure of his specific location, so it's only right to cover all aspects of the main entrance. I'd go to the same lengths for everyone else present here."

 _Well, that's reassuring to know_ , I thought. What's more, much to my joy, the reporter on one of the news channels occupying our screens seemed to agree wholeheartedly.

" _There you have it! The police refuse to cooperate with Kira. Instead, they are preparing to fight. And, as much as I fear for my own life in saying so, this is right. And it must be done! Kira has become a threat to our very constitution. And as citizens, we must fight back. This is NHN's golden news anchor - Koki Tanakabara_."

I couldn't hold back the grin of triumph as I listened to the news anchor's speech, feeling nothing but pride rush through me as the man spoke. It meant that our work wasn't in vain, and it meant that Ukita's sacrifice wasn't for nothing. That thought was enough to put a smile on my face for a while.

* * *

 Time passed slowly as we waited for the Chief. I drummed my fingers against my thigh, lethargy making my head loll back against Chris' chest.

Behind the noise of the televisions, the sound of a door clicking open reached my ears. I sat up eagerly, seeing Mr Yagami enter the hotel room, assisted by Watari, tapes in hand. His two colleagues bustled over, showering their superior in praise and admiration for his bravery and quick thinking. The Chief, unfazed as ever, ignored them both, making a direct beeline to the detective. His face had some life to it, I noticed - moreso than it did when I saw him at the hospital - but still, he looked tired. Bless him.

L rose to his feet, and joined the small huddle that grouped around Mr Yagami.

"Ryuzaki," the elder started slowly, head bowed in shame. "I apologise for taking matters into my own hands. I have to admit, I got a little bit carried away."

He glanced down at the floor like a guilty child as he held out the brown paper bag. "Here. These are all of the tapes in an envelope. Everything Kira sent to the station is in here."

"I can't thank you enough," the dark haired man replied earnestly, taking the bag from the officer and quickly rummaging through its contents.

Now, I stood, peering over the detective's back, eyes focused on the effects of the package. There was no more than a handful of tapes and a brown envelope - most likely used to deliver the tapes to the station.

"Mr Aizawa, can you please take this to the crime lab right away?" L requested, handing the envelope to said police officer.

The man nodded. "I still have a couple of friends down there. I'll make sure they go over every inch of this."

"That's good. Please do so. While you're doing that, I'm going to watch these tapes to see if they can tell us anything." The detective stated, seating himself back in his chair, facing away from us.

Grimacing, I crossed my arms over my chest, trying my darnedest to hold back the sigh that threatened to spill from my lips. It was bad enough having to listen to four individual tapes on repeat for hours, but the thought of having to sit quietly and listen to Kira's toxic drivel after all that had happened was torture. I really didn't want to do that. Not now.

As if reading my mind, L then added, "The rest of you are excused to return to your own homes. I recommend getting some rest. Please make sure you're fully prepared to come in early tomorrow morning."

The other officers couldn't move quick enough, eager to get home to their families and their beds. Chris made what I assumed was witty comment as he too got to his feet, giving me a hearty slap on the back to get me moving. Steadily, I clambered back to a standing position, beginning to idly pack what few things I'd left sprawled in the living area.

"Where will you go now?" I heard voice from behind me ask.

I could only shake my head. "Honestly, I don't know. I haven't had the chance to contact New York yet, so extra money isn't really an option right now."

"Would you like-"

Having a feeling I already knew what he was going to say, I slammed my bag against the coffee table. "I've said that I don't want you to give me money, Ryuzaki."

The man blinked owlishly, blatantly annoyed at having been interrupted. "I wasn't going to say that. I was going to ask whether you'd like for me to pay for a room for you here?"

My thought process screeched to a stop, and I practically gave myself whiplash with the speed I whirled my head towards the detective.

"Christ, no! That would cost you a fortune."

Truthfully, I'd feel guilty with him giving me what little I needed to cover my costs at the shitty hotel, but to pay for an entire suite at the Japanese equivalent of _The Plaza_. In what way did he think that would be any better?

"Just stop with the offers, okay. I don't want you to spend any sort of money on me."

"Were you comfortable enough last night?"

"What?" I blanked, not really seeing the statements relevance to our conversation, eventually deigning to nod my head passively. "Yeah, sure. Your room's lovely."

"You're welcome to stay permanently if you wish."

As he said that, breathing suddenly became a major issue, and I choked on the air in my lungs. I tried (in vain) to pass it off as a scoff, but I was sure the shock in my eyes gave me away completely.

Having composed myself, with the more logical side of my brain kicking into gear, I suddenly realised the amount of absurd hilarity in that statement. There was no way in hell L - aka _isolated reclusive husk of a human being_ \- would ever invite another person to share his man cave. It just wouldn't happen. The fact he was doing just that clearly must have meant it was a joke.

Sceptical, I stood waiting for the punch line, but it never came.

_Oh, good God, he was genuine!_

"You're serious?" He nodded. "Wouldn't I just be a burden?"

"If I had thought you were going to burden me, I wouldn't have offered."

Discreetly, I rolled my eyes. Blunt as always, but flattering all the same.

"Well, in that case, detective," I replied, a semblance of a smile tugging at my lips. "I might just take you up on that offer."

Without warning, a head of blonde peeked around the doorframe, green eyes casting a weary glance between myself and the other man.

"You coming, A?" Chris asked, holding up his car keys as they jingled.

It took me a few long seconds to process his question, and I just stared gormlessly. "Erm, yeah, I just need a few minutes. Go start up the car, and I'll meet you down there."

The older man inclined his head, gesturing to his watch impatiently as he turned and left the room. Silently, I watched him go, slowly turning back to other person in the room.

"Okay," I said assuringly (more to myself than him). "Well, I need to go clear out my room and check out, if I'm really going to do this." I looked up at him once more, hesitant. "Are you sure this is okay?"

He didn't reply - just stared at me like I was stupid. Nothing new.

"I know, I know! If it wasn't okay, you wouldn't have offered. But really, you don't mind?"

"No. It would be preferable actually. It can be lonely without any company." He paused, turning away from me, awkwardly adding, "You're decent company."

I was mildly insulted that decent was the best adjective he could apply to me, but I didn't complain. The fact he considered me to be worth his company at all was reason to celebrate.

"Thanks. You're not so bad yourself sometimes." I countered, smirking as what appeared to be offence started to form on his pale features.

" _Sometimes_?" he echoed, but I was already out of the door.

* * *

 Chris released a tense exhale as he pulled onto the main road. "Man, tonight was wild."

A nod was all I gave him in reply.

"How do you feel?"

I shrugged. "Tired mostly."

"Well, L's given us all the night off. Just try and get a good sleep when we get back, yeah?"

I gulped, unsure of how to respond to his sweet obliviousness. I hadn't had a chance to tell him about mine and L's agreement. I wasn't sure how he'd take it, and frankly, I didn't want to walk all the way back if he got mad at me. It might've been better to consider the fact that I also didn't want to die in a car accident if I was to tell him now, but I couldn't lie to him. He'd already gotten pissed off with me when he couldn't get a response from me that same morning, so neglecting him a second time could only result in a total meltdown. It'd probably be best to just come straight out with it.

 _Like a bandaid_ , I thought. _One pull. Quick. Simple. Painless._

"Chris, I won't be stopping at the hotel tonight."

Much to my surprise, the car didn't flip or spin out of control. Instead, the man sat beside me merely huffed out a sigh - as though he knew this was coming.

"Let me guess. Can't get enough of the five star luxuries, can you?"

Well, that wasn't my point, but he wasn't entirely wrong.

"No, its not that." I hesitated, preparing myself for a lecture like a child would a scolding. "I'm a bit short on money."

"How short?"

I chuckled dryly. "Shorter than Seth Green."

He sent me a stern look, and the humour fell away. "I've only got a few hundred Yen left."

"And you didn't think to tell me this because?"

"Because you don't need to worry about me. You have your own problems to concern yourself with. You don't need mine as well." Then, in an attempt to lighten the mood, I said, "Besides, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

The man bit out a scoff. "Okay then, big girl, what are you going to do about it?"

I blanked. Oh shit. Well, now I was backed into a corner. Would it be better to tell the truth, or to lie? I could always say that I really was working at the Red Light District, earning my weekly wage. I imagined that reaction would be funny.

"Well," I swallowed whatever saliva was left in my throat, drying out my speech. "I've decided that until I get my hands on some more money, I'm going to be staying with Ryuzaki - permanently."

I was more than prepared for the slow raised brow, and an obvious roll of the eyes, but the simmering heat brewing in his emerald eyes burned me regardless.

Perhaps I should've just gone with the Red Light District. It probably would've earned me a lighter response.

The blonde cleared his throat, pulling up at the side of the road as we neared our destination.

"So," he turned to face me fully. "Clearly you can't take care of yourself."

I narrowed my eyes, insulted by the implications (and angered by the fact that he was technically right). "He offered, so I accepted. What's so wrong with that?"

"You barely know this guy."

" _This guy_?" I laughed at the bitterness in his tone. "When did you start getting so pious? It's L. _The_ L. You've been having wet dreams about him since you were twelve. And I'm aware that I barely know him - but still, I trust him."

Chris swallowed, eyes flickering between me and the outside. "You could've roomed with me, you know," he murmured after a moment's pause.

"That would've been a terrible idea, and you know it, Chris. You have two rooms, and a small single bed. L's suite has about five rooms and a large double bed."

The man's face twisted into something resembling envy, and I took a hasty step away from that approach, instead mentioning, "We've already unwittingly roomed together, and you remember how awkward and hectic that was. I don't want to repeat that every single morning. I want to give you the space and privacy that you need."

"I wouldn't have minded!" He argued. "I'd give you my room and sleep on the street if that's what you really wanted, because that's much I care about you."

Solemnly, he opened the door to his left, and made a move to step out.

"Hey," I started softly, quickly slipping out of my side of the car to purse him. Rounding the vehicle, my hand darted out to grasp his, and I held it steadfast. The restrained man stopped in his tracks, but lowered his head, refusing to meet my gaze.

"Chris," I whispered to him. "Don't worry. You're still my number one, and that won't change. No matter what you do, and no matter what I say to dispute it, we'll always be best friends."

Slowly, the blonde turned his head back to me, a whole hurricane of emotions lining his features. For the first time that night, I looked at my friend. I mean, really _looked_ at him.

He was so tired; that fact was as clear as day. His eyes - usually brimming with life - were weary. The skin around them was pulled taut, roughed up around the edges, and strained - like he was trying desperately not to cry. To me, it seemed as though a whole emotional battle had ensued in his head, hammering his defences with fervour and pummelling his mentality until his outward appearance wilted in response. A desolate mix of depression and fatigue. It was painful to see, and I was sorry for causing it.

When he didn't respond, I thought perhaps that he was still upset, but then he snorted.

The sound came as a surprise to me, and I raised a questioning brow, but he just continued chuckling.

"Man, you're so cheesy. That sounded like it came straight out of a Hollywood script."

We shared a laugh at that - a pure and jovial noise amongst the silence of the suburban street. Thrilled as I was that I was back on good terms with my friend, I threw my arms around Chris in a bear hug.

He stumbled back a bit from the sudden contact, but wrapped his arms around my waist just as tenderly. "Woah, where'd all this spirit come from?"

Shaking my head, I sighed contentedly. "I'm just happy to know you're here."

The blonde took a breath, tone shifting to something I couldn't place. "A, you're a moron sometimes."

I buried my head in his shirt, feeling the laughter rumble within his chest, and in that moment, I allowed myself to forget all that had happened that night - and what it would lead to henceforth. Then, it didn't matter that Ukita was dead, or that our own potential demise was looming on the horizon like a red-rimmed, eclipsed sunrise.

I had my best friend back, and that's all I cared about.

* * *

 It felt lonely in my room when I arrived there alone. Me and Chris had fallen into the habit of visiting each other's hotel rooms before we went to bed, to drink, and to laugh, and to discuss. We rarely ever went our separate ways in the hotel lobby, and it'd never come to the point where we settled in separate accommodations - until now.

This felt strange. It was too quiet.

With a solemn face and a heavy heart, I pulled my travel case out from under the bed and started to pack up my remaining clothes. It was a mundane task, only made more tedious by the lack of energy in the room.

I considered putting some music on to pass the time quicker (and to stop myself from completely breaking under the strain of the silence and my heavy rucksack of emotion). Nodding, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, only now noticing the six missed calls from several hours ago.

The string of numbers wasn't completely unfamiliar to me, but it took me a moment to put the figures to a face. In my hazy mind, I could picture him. A face, aged by stress and cigarettes. Wrinkles beginning to appear in the corner of his lips and eyes. Creases trailing across his forehead. A forced smile.

Jason Vaughn - my benefactor.

He was most likely (and, by that I mean, _definitely_ ) the one that sold me over to L.

To state it simply, he was an absolute bastard and I hated his guts. I also had a hell of a lot to say to this man. Conveniently, his number was already programmed into my phone, and I had far too much courage bubbling up inside me.

Yes. I was going to call him, and I was going to scream.

I didn't even attempt a second thought as I opened up my contact list. I was tired, emotional, and royally pissed off. This seemed like the greatest idea I'd had in ages.

Seeing as he was the most recent caller, Jason's number appeared almost instantly in my extensive contact's list. I quickly dialled it, fingers pressing down a little too firmly on the number pad, and pressed the device to my ear. After about four rings, I began to get a tad suspicious. Jason always answered a call right away; he didn't hesitate. So that meant he was either ignoring me, had his phone off, or he was ' _busy_ ' with a cigarette and a pack of playing cards (likely the latter).

Just before the call was due to transfer to answer phone, the ringing in my ears cut off and quiet ambience was all I could hear, followed by a very muffled hello.

_ENTER ANGER._

"Hey, Jason. How've you been?" I began, forcing my voice to sound at least somewhat cheery.

"Agent," he acknowledged, a hint of annoyance in his tone. "I see you got my call. Good. Thanks for responding. Still, can I ask what possessed you to call me back at six in the morning?"

I looked down at my watch, and cursed under my breath, only now remembering there was a fourteen hour time difference between Japan and New York. _Whoops_.

"Sorry," I mumbled, rather unapologetically. "I know it's early. I just assumed it was urgent."

My breath hitched as I hesitated, briefly considering backing out of the conversation whilst I still had the chance. It was only after a moment's deliberation that I firmly decided otherwise. I wasn't that much of a coward. If this went downhill, what was the worst that could happen? I was already scraping the debt level in my bank account, and I had the ever present threat of a painful death leering over me. By this point, I had nothing to lose!

"Besides, I have something pretty serious I need to discuss with you."

There was a sigh. "Agent, we already know."

My brows furrowed.

There's no way. He couldn't know.

"What do you mean?" I asked, a blend of confusion and suspicion clouding my features.

A low grunt of annoyance could be heard through the receiver and I could practically feel Jason roll his eyes at my stupidity.

"Do you think we've been living under a rock all this time? We know you're working on the Kira case."

I scowled deeply. _Who_? Who the hell had told them?

"How did you find out?" I asked in a low tone, chewing my inner cheek in annoyance.

"The man you currently know as Watari informed us a few months back, not too long after you first joined." Jason replied, evoking a sigh from me.

Oh, would you look at that! Once again, my private business matters had been shared without my permission. Honestly, I was shocked. Even so, I expected better from Watari - of all people.

"Of course he did," I muttered grimly.

"Hey, don't sound so disappointed," Jason quickly interjected. "I'm not going to pull you from the case nor am I going to spite you for joining. In fact, I'm glad you're on the investigation. Although, I wish you'd asked permission first, but that can't be helped now."

Well, alright then.

I was shocked, to say the least, but I couldn't complain. Jason had always been a very controlling little puppeteer. He never liked to be kept in the dark, and always demanded frequent updates from Chris and I whilst we worked on a case. The fact he was so blaze about me having joined an international serial murder case without consulting anyone first was more than a little shocking.

"You're really not mad? Not even a little?"

"No," he said in reply. "Actually, if you hadn't already beaten us to the mark, we were going to request you work alongside L since he was so desperate for intellectual minds to investigate the Kira case."

At the mention of L's name, I perked up, having remembered something that had been nagging at me ever since I first joined this investigation. I narrowed my eyes, my expression becoming much more malicious. At last, the little screaming voice at the back of my mind could finally have its say.

Oh, this would be very, _very_ satisfying.

"That reminds me, there's actually something else I've been wanting to talk about," I told him sourly, my voice adopting a much more sinister tone. "Why did you hand over my files to L?"

Silence.

 _Ha_! Busted.

I could practically hear the creak of cogs whirring in Jason's brain as he processed what I'd just asked of him. With surprisingly good patience, I waited for my reply, eager to hear what lie he would formulate in response.

After another beat of silence passed, and I began to get a bit impatient, coughing twice to get the point across. Jason decided that this would be a good time to finally open his mouth - not that he made much sense anyway. He stuttered and stumbled over his words, pausing every now and then, apparently having lost the ability to speak in coherent English.

"Well," he took a breath, finally mustering up the courage to form a proper sentence. "He'd asked for them."

I ground my teeth together. Really? That was his reason? _He'd asked for them_. Well, if Jason was so pliable, perhaps I'd ask for him to kindly jump off the nearest bridge.

"What did you expect me to say, Agent? No?" The man continued, sensing my irritation, choosing his words particularly carefully as to not set me off in a fitful fiery rage. "L asking for your files was a major breakthrough to us. We've been trying to outshine the children in Wammy's Orphanage for over a decade now. You know of it?"

I hummed out a bitter yes.

"Then you should know how different it is in comparison to ours. Although it is managed by the same man, the programs that are run by our two facilities are very different. Firstly, St Mary's permits you to keep your identity - your real name - on the condition that you don't reveal it to anyone other than ourselves. We recognise you as human beings and do not believe in demoting our children to mere letters."

A haughty scoff concluded his sentence, and my eyes dragged across my eyelids in a prolonged roll. I couldn't bear the thought of having to sit and listen to one of his patriotic, self-righteous rants... _again_.

It was common knowledge amongst the children at St Mary's that Jason despised the English facility, and he was sure to make this very clear, expressing his contempt in the most obvious of ways. When I was around twelve, I'd heard about Wammy's from Chris, and went to Jason with my queries. The man didn't even bother answering any of my questions; he just stormed off in the foulest mood and refused to acknowledge me for the following few days. Seven years had passed since then, and I still didn't fully understand what his problem was. Sure, they earned more recognition than us; they had substantially more money than us, and not to mention, they had L. Even so, that was no reason to develop such an intense hatred for the place.

"Secondly," he continued. "Our facility does not have a superior figure that others are meant to aspire to. In other words, we do not have an L. We merely ask that you aim towards being the best you can be and that is all - similarly to how any other normal school would run. However, that does not mean we do not want our children to become as intellectually brilliant as the detective known as L, and to be recognised for that fact. However, Wammy's orphanage already has formed a line of successors for L, meaning none of our children will ever be able to gain his title."

"To conclude it nicely," he said in a bittersweet tone, though the venom underlining his words was easy to grasp. "None of our children will be truly appreciated for their efforts because the world's eyes are too focused on the mysterious enigma known as L and what he has achieved."

This time, I really did groan. Despite what others might've said, Jason had to be one of the most childish people I know. He was always acting like there's some sort of a competition between the two facilities. Did it really matter who was top dog? We were all doing the same job when it came down to it.

"Yeah, that's nice and all, but how does this concern me again?" I asked, quickly becoming bored of the whole patriotic speech.

"Until he asked for you, we thought we'd never get a look in. Being acknowledged by L is a rare blessing. You should be honoured."

The amount of power it took not to roll my eyes was immense. The way he went on, speaking about L as though he were a God stood on a golden pedestal, really grinded my nerves. I hoped one day he'd have the _honour_ of meeting L - and having his dreams crushed all the while.

"Oh, yeah. I'm totally honoured - you should be too. Tossing around my private details like a pimp would a hooker. I mean, how great is that? What an amazing opportunity you've nabbed for me!"

Likely offended by my lewd analogy, the man groaned. "Don't be so childish. I did it for your benefit."

I waved my hand. "That's irrelevant. What it all boils down to is the fact you didn't ask me what I thought."

He was quiet for a moment, sensing my growing anger. "I don't see why I should've. Was there a problem?"

My resolve snapped, and I practically snarled into the phone. "Damn right there was a problem! When I had gone to meet with L - a complete stranger, might I add - he'd known every little thing there was to know about me. If that wasn't humiliating enough, he then went on to judge me based on what you had written. Hell, I don't even know what you've got written down in there, but I'm assuming it's not all sunshine and rainbows. I'm still partly surprised that he even accepted me onto the task force. You made me out to be a violent nutcase!"

Jason said nothing. Only the sound of steady inhales and the ambience surrounding him made its way through the receiver.

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

I scoffed. "Oh, you're sorry? Well, I'm sorry, but it's a bit too late for that."

With that, I thrust the phone away from my ear with the intention of hanging up on him. However, before I could, Jason yelled for me to wait, his voice reaching a shrill octave.

Reluctantly, I placed the device back against my ear, my patience sliding along a dangerously thin line. " _What_?"

"Agent, what are you going to do?"

"What do you think?" I all but growled. "I'm going to do what I always do. Catch the killer, save the day and move on."

A heavy sigh emitted from the other side of the phone, followed by a long pause. For a minute, I thought I'd lost connection, but was quickly proven wrong when Jason spoke once more.

"Be careful, Agent," he said, his tone becoming much more serious. "From what I've seen, this isn't your everyday killer. I want you to be careful, and the same applies to Christian. We can't afford to lose you two."

My eye twitched slightly at his wording, understanding the _real_ reason for his concern. Not wanting to listen to anymore of Jason's honeyed words, I made up a poor excuse and said that I had to be somewhere, wishing him a bland goodnight (well, a good morning for him technically) and hung up before he could protest.

With a shake of my head, I dropped my phone onto the bed and let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose between my index finger and thumb, feeling a migraine beginning to build.

It went without saying that I was grateful for St Mary's; eternally grateful. They gave me a chance at life, and supported me every step of the way. Sometimes though, I couldn't help but sense the overwhelming level of hypocrisy from its caretakers. They claimed to be so humane - so civilised - in comparison to their sister facility, but yet still spoke to us as though we were nothing but brains and brawn to them. To them, it was as though we were little more than hamsters with only a plastic ball to spin in. From time to time, I contemplated the thought that if we didn't have above-average mindsets, would we still be so dear to them?

I wondered if L felt this way too. Likely not. I mean, he held the title of being the world's greatest detective. He was appreciated and adored globally. Across nations and across cultures, people knew his name, and they respected it. Monarchs and Presidents alike commended him for his efforts, whilst criminals and wrongdoers shuddered in the city's shadows. No one questioned him, or had any doubts of his abilities. Everyone had faith in him. For any aspiring detective, he was an inspiration. He had nobody to succeed, and no ominous shadow looming overhead that watched his every move. He had absolutely nothing to worry about.

L was as free as a Wammy's child could get. I could only imagine how that felt.

* * *

I arrived at the hotel twenty minutes later, mind and body alike exhausted (Chris had insisted that he give me a ride back, but I could see how sleep deprived he was, and told him that I'd be fine walking). Slinging open the door to L's suite, I was confronted with the sound of that damned distorted voice coming from the television, and a look of attentiveness from the detective as he eyed my entry with a keen gaze. Too emotionally numb to fake a happy reaction, I merely acknowledged him with a lazy wave of the hand.

"Why the long face?" He asked as I seated myself beside him.

I forced my frustration out through a sharp exhale. "Oh. Nothing. I just ended a rather irritating conversation."

The man nodded in understanding, but chose not to pry, which I was grateful for. I didn't really want to explain how I'd been yelling nonsense at my caretaker, who in turn had been slandering the very institution he grew up in. That'd likely cause some divide between the detective and I and, considering we were essentially sharing living quarters now, that'd just be awkward.

"How are you feeling?"

My response was automatic; instantaneous. "I'm fine."

As expected, the Human Lie Detector was not convinced. "Are you?"

"Yes. Completely."

"You've just witnessed a man die, and you blame yourself for it. If you're completely fine, then I have to question the stability of your mental psyche."

Tossing my hands heavenwards, I shot a stern glare towards the detective. "What do you want me to do, L? Burst into tears and beg for comfort? I'm told to expect the worst, and I'm trained to deal with whatever happens - the same as you. _We_ have to be fine."

"Tomorrow, you can be fine," he dictated. "Tomorrow, you can act as though nothing ever happened. But tonight, you're going to grieve. It's unhealthy to sit quietly after experiencing a trauma."

I narrowed my eyes, muttering darkly under my breath, "Gosh, when did you get so bossy?"

Leaning back against the couch, I looked across at the man as he replaced the tape in the cassette player, raising a questioning brow.

"Are you sure you're okay, Mr Confident? You're at the top of Kira's hit list, and he's just proven that he only needs a face to kill."

His expression morphed into something that I could only call a grimace, subtle as it was. "I'll admit that I am a bit unnerved."

"Just unnerved?" I shook my head. "No, I'm not accepting that. Come, sit and grieve with me."

Reluctantly, he obided by my gestures, and trudged over to me after a moment's hesitation. We sat in silence, smothered by the gentle ambience of the hotel and the distant sounds of traffic and Tokyo's nightlife (why people would still insist on partying, considering all that had happened, was beyond me). Neither of us looked at one another, simply stared ahead at the television's static, seemingly mesmerised by each fuzzy black disturbance.

It was meaningless, of course. Entirely pointless. What we were doing was indisputably a waste of time; I'd even go so far as to say it was the definition of the phrase. Sitting and staring - it wasn't exactly an envigorating activity but, honestly, I couldn't find the will to do anything else. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to talk. I was perfectly content with sitting and staring.

 _This_... wasn't me. This wasn't what I'd usually do.

By now, the typical me would've cracked some unfunny joke or introduced some awkward banter to strike up a conversation, if only to diminish the silence. I hated sitting in silence.

Perhaps what I needed really was some comfort.

"Hey, L?"

The other, still looking away from me, raised a brow.

"Have you ever watched someone die?"

The man thought for a moment, not questioning my abrupt inquiry. "Yes."

A burst of elation (inappropriate given the conversation topic) coursed through me. Good. If his answer was yes, then he'd be able to understand. If he understood, then he'd be able to help me.

"Right in front of you?"

A shake of the head was my sorry response. "No. Only through recorded footage."

My heart sunk - and not only because it meant L was unable to relate. The statement really made me think how much of L's life had been spent sitting behind a computer screen, and that was sad.

"Like Raye Penber?" I asked. When he answered in the affirmative, I continued. "Before tonight, I'd been the same. I've seen people who were close to death, and I've seen people beaten within an inch of their life. But I never saw them die.

"You wouldn't think it'd be so profound, especially considering that it's such a common occurrence. I mean, it happens everyday; everywhere, and in so many different ways. Nothing more and nothing less than a grim finality - for all of us. But watching Ukita collapse like that, and lay there on the ground like some sort of discarded ragdoll, made me feel so... _angry_. And sad. And, in a way, lost. I wasn't sure what to do.

"I always thought that if I was to watch someone die in actuality, it wouldn't phase me. I mean, nowadays, most people are desensitised to death, right? It's shown everywhere - in video games; in newspapers; on TV." I released a humourless laugh. "Though, watching death on a television screen doesn't quite compare to seeing it happen in real life. It's not personal. It doesn't effect us in the same way, I think.

"Albeit, it's still disturbing to see, but it just doesn't give the same sensations. In a way, it's sort of like watching a movie. We can sit and watch a movie and tell ourselves it's not real. The action could seem so close to us; so realistic; so raw, but at the end of the day, it's just a movie. The same goes for those tapes of Raye. Even though they're real, and the man's actually dead, we can trick ourselves into thinking it's just like a movie. It softens the blow."

I paused, lowering my gaze towards my fidgeting hands, withholding a sigh. "But seeing it as it is - standing there and watching it play out - brings a whole new level of realism to death."

L looked my crumpled figure up and down, asking, "Are you upset?"

If I was feeling my usual self, I would've said something snappy like ' _duh, no shit_ ', but all I could muster was a simple nod.

"Yeah. I just wish I could've been that bit faster, you know. I wish I could've done more for him than just arrange for him to be carried away in a black body bag like a sack of meat."

L adopted a wistful tone as he responded, sounding rather like one of those wise old souls you'd see in films. "If people spent all of their time wishing, nothing would ever be accomplished."

I threw a disgusted look towards my peer, frowning at his oddly poetic choice of words. To me, that line sounded like something that would come straight out of an inspirational quote book, or a highschooler's graduation speech. Unwittingly, I pictured the detective giving the freshman speech at To-Oh, and very nearly cringed at the thought. The second hand embarrassment was too much, even now.

"Don't start being motivational. It _really_ doesn't suit you."

The detective ignored my comment. "Try to sleep - if you can," he told me. "If not, feel free to assist."

I considered it for a moment, thinking that perhaps it'd be good for me to distract myself through analysis and intellectual conversation, but as I tossed a glance towards the tyrant's name scrawled onscreen, I had to physically stop myself before from spitting.

"Tempting offer, but I think I'll pass." I shrugged. "I'm tired anyway."

That was a lie, of course. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep much - if at all - for the rest of the night, but I didn't think I'd be able to stomach any more of Kira's prophetic bullshit than I already had without flying into a total rage.

Standing, I started to head towards the door of my room - well, L's room, technically. Or was it _our_ room? Did we share now? - and I blurted before I could stop myself.

"Thanks, Ryuzaki."

I received no verbal response, but I was fine with that. From the solid gleam in his eyes, I could tell my gratitude was acknowledged and accepted. That was enough.

Silently, with one fluid turn of his head, the detective refocused his attention on his investigation, paying me no mind as I slunk across the room. Pressing play on the remote, he started the next tape, and thus the living area was filled with the distorted splutter that was the voice of our famed Odysseus.

Slipping away, I closed the door behind me with a soft click, not wanting to disturb the detective anymore than I already had. My body was practically dragging me to the bed, it's soft cotton quilt and plumped pillows beckoning me like a siren would a sailor. My tired eyes had already begun to sting in protest against the dry night air, but my mind was as active as ever.

Like the static on the television, my brain had delved into a state of erratic nonsense. It was as though a constant stream of white noise had swamped my conscience, hissing and crackling and obscuring any sensical thought I might've had. Medically speaking, I was sure that I was likely suffering from some variation of trauma. Images of Ukita had been flashing through my brain like a broken record throughout the whole evening. They strung together like some sort of twisted dream sequence, tormenting me with questions that I knew couldn't be answered, riling my emotions like a Spaniard would a bull. It made me nauseous.

With a low sigh, I began to strip out of my clothes. There was no point standing around in full get-up, even if I was deigning not to sleep. Sluggishly, I tossed aside each article, not bothering to pick up and fold them as they dropped to the floor. They'd have wrinkles come the morning, but I didn't have it in me to care.

As I stood, nearly naked, I realised I'd still somehow forgotten to buy some nightwear when I passed the clothing outlet on my way back to the hotel, but I didn't see any point in scolding myself for it. I probably wouldn't have been able to afford a pair anyway.

Languidly, I seated myself on the floor by the window, leaning my back against the wall and watching through cloudy eyes as the world rolled by. I wasn't sure how long I remained there exactly, but as the following day's sunrise crept above the horizon, I realised it'd been more than a good few hours.

The sunlight casted a golden hue across the sea of buildings, painting their walls a warm, hazy yellow. People strolled by, blissfully unaware of the girl staring down at them as they went about their business. I sighed quietly in what could've been perceived as content, observing the blur of faces in the city's crowd, and wondered to myself:

_Could anybody out there be Kira?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS 9000 WORDS AGAIN. THE DBZ MEME LIVES ON.
> 
> Welp this took longer than expected, mainly because I decided I hated the first draft and completely rewrote it. Behold, the cons of being a creator - you despite everything you make. 
> 
> I'm also currently really sick with fever (like, wearing winter pyjamas all day long and sleeping with two hot water bottles kind of fever - it's bad) so I've been fighting that for the past week. Fun!
> 
> In any case, it's currently 22:45 and I have a steaming cup of chocolate mocha (aka coffee for the weak) sat beside me to help keep me awake because I am very tired. Fun fact about authoress: I don't usually drink black coffee, but when I do, I drink it like L - with fifty spoonfuls of sugar/a handful of dissolvable sugar pills.
> 
> Speaking of our favorite detective, that brief fluffy interaction with him had me in tears. Honestly, I just couldn't stop thinking of that scene from Mulan (aka best Disney movie) where Mulan asks if Shang would like to stay for dinner, and the grandma is like WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER. Yeah, that's L in this chapter. What a soppy Samaritan. 
> 
> On a less humorous note, sadly I won't be updating this until at least the end of June since I'll be starting my major LIFE-DETERMINING exams in exactly a week today, and I'd prefer to spend the rest of my time revising whilst I still can. The next chapter is already planned out, so hopefully it shouldn't take too long to write once I finish my GCSEs. Wish me luck!!


	11. Chapter Ten

Barely an hour after the sun had first risen above the looming block of skyscrapers, I'd found myself lying flat on my back against the floor. Jaded, I gazed up at the ceiling through squinted eyes, marvelling as the dull white plaster was transformed into a golden spectacle by the sunrise, one that could rival the sight caused by refractions of light through a fire opal. On the other side of the glass, the sun's rays pierced through the morning smog with a bedazzling intensity, coating my room in warm and vibrant colours like a painter would a blank canvas.

I stared hazily, unblinking, my eyes glazed over by a fuzzy sheen, the corners twitching every so often. Admittedly, I still hadn't slept, despite the more logical side of my brain having pestered me to. I still had a couple more hours to rest if I really wanted to, but I didn't see much point in trying. Morning had already reared its bright and beautiful head, and I could faintly smell the bitter aroma of coffee seeping from under the door - meaning either L had finally mustered the self-will to make himself a cup, or Watari was awake.

If Watari (someone with a _regular_ sleeping schedule) was awake, then I should be awake. I was no freeloader. If my hosts were up and it, I shouldn't have been sitting in a room and moping. I should've be showing signs of life and making conversation; assisting them where I could. Not to mention, I had a mass homicide investigation to contribute to. Wallowing in grief and self-loathing wasn't the best way to stimulate my brain.

With a deep inhale, I pushed myself to a sitting position, every bone in my back audibly cracking as I stretched. I stood almost drunkenly, black dots swimming in my line of vision, zipping across the walls like intoxicated flies. Blinking away any residue of insomnia, I cast my eyes to the city outside, flinching away as the bright light burnt my corneas. The sudden movement cast a chill across my skin, despite the warmth of the heated glass, and I was quickly reminded of my near-nakedness.

I gave a near-hysterical laugh, feeling nowhere close to being depressed enough to socialise with others in my underwear. Lazily, I whipped out whatever my hands found first in my suitcase, not feeling bothered to pick and choose and put actual _effort_ into selecting my outfit. As I rummaged through my case, I realised I hadn't unpacked - another task I'd have to do at some point when my mind was in a more stable state - and released a sigh of irritation. Great. More _effort_.

After dressing myself, I headed to the bathroom. I was sure I looked a mess. In fact, I purposefully avoided looking in the mirror as I went about my business for that reason alone, silently counting the number of white tiles that lined the walls instead (a quick multiplication told me there was around 6,480 - no, I did not count them individually; I wasn't _that_ numb).

After achieveing the basic hygienic standards expected of a grieving victim of emotional shock, I retreated back into the adjacent room, once again standing to admire the morning's fiery display.

I wondered silently as the sun rose defiantly above the thick cloud of grey - what was it that inspirational speakers often said? _With every dawn came a new day, and with every day a new opportunity_.

Yeah. I could take the hint, nature. I could embrace this. This would be my fresh start.

I only wish Ukita could say the same.

* * *

"Morning, Ryuzaki."

The other occupant raised his head in acknowledgment as I trudged from the suite into the living area, the smell of coffee hitting me like a heavenly bus sent from the Almighty. In that instant, I wanted nothing more than to march into the kitchen and pour myself a bucket of pure caffeine, but with lethargy eating away at my muscles, I didn't make it more than five metres and practically fell onto the couch. I didn't even care what L thought of my pathetic slumped state.

Let him question. Let him judge.

"Good morning." A slight pause. "I didn't hear much movement from you last night. How long have you been awake?"

 _All night_. "A few hours."

"Did you sleep well?"

 _Not at all_. "Like a log."

A questioning silence elapsed, and then the detective asked, "You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

I grimaced. "No."

The man sighed and stood, crossing the room and promptly returning with a handful of pills. I assumed they were painkillers and gulped them down, murmuring a quiet word of thanks.

"Are you feeling any better?"

The low sigh that fell from my lips gave him his answer.

"Honestly, I just feel worse, but I'll suck it up."

L glanced down, and then back at me, deliberating. Then, he asked (with absolutely zero signs that he was joking), "Do you want some cake? It may make you feel better."

I contemplated the offer. _Now, what did I care about more? My fragile pride and carefully maintained physique, or my current state of consciousness_? Really, it was a no-brainer.

"Yeah, I do."

I was genuinely surprised when the insomniac handed me the whole plate with absolutely no hesitation or remorse present in his actions. Warily, I glanced between the plate and him, mildly concerned for his own wellbeing, especially considering sentimentally attached the detective was to his deserts. Then, for the shortest moment, my heart softened in understanding and I immediately began to retract every mean statement I'd made about the man not possessing human empathy.

That moment didn't last too long, however, when the detective pulled out another plate seemingly from nowhere and resumed his previous activity.

Of course he had another slice. I doubted L would ever willingly share food even if his life was on the line.

Ultimately, I chose not to comment on the magically materialised desert, and instead scooped a portion of my own cake into my mouth. It wasn't nearly as horrible as I'd envisioned it to be, actually. The texture was light and spongy; the cream smooth and velvety. It didn't feel fattening in the slightest. It was sweet, but not sickly so, and the strawberries that sat delicately atop the frosting gave the illusion that it was healthy (plus, strawberries were one of my favourite fruits, so that was an added bonus).

With every bite, I felt enlivened and, although I'd never admit it to the detective's smug little face, it felt fucking good to eat.

"It seems I was right about the sweet tooth."

Throwing the man my darkest scowl, I swallowed glumly. "Shut up. It's got nothing to do with that. I haven't slept all night; I need the energy. That is, unless you want me passing out on your couch."

"I'd much rather want you to take proper care of yourself."

I was willed and ready to call out the level of hypocrisy in that statement (seeing as L literally did nothing but feed his insomnia with endless amounts of sugar), but as my eyes drifted towards the television, I was prompted with a far more interesting thought.

"So, what was on the tapes we got last night?"

"Well, it seems that in response to the demands Kira made during the broadcast, he wants for the police to release one of these two tapes depending on their answer," he told me, holding up two cassettes labelled 3 and 4. "The third tape was to be aired if the police had said yes to Kira's demands, and the fourth if the answer was no. Tape three covers the terms of cooperation. Simply put, he's requesting we broadcast the names of more criminals, emphasising those who have assaulted or taken advantage of others.

"Furthermore, as proof that the police are willing to cooperate, he wants police officials and myself to appear on TV to make a public announcement that we plan to cooperate with him. He needs us to show our faces so he can easily kill us should the police do anything suspicious. To state it simply, our lives are being held as insurance."

I'd stopped eating halfway through his explanation, staring at him with panicked eyes.

"Jesus," I muttered. "What are you going to do?"

"Naturally, I'm going to attempt to keep my face from public view if at all possible, but it all depends on the decision of the NPA."

The question of 'and what if they vote to agree' still lingered, but I had a feeling the detective didn't want to consider it unless it became a reality. Besides, I didn't really want to question the man's feelings on what was essentially the signing of his own death warrant, so instead, I swerved the topic of the conversation into less distressing waters.

"L, do you think there's a possibility this could be a fake Kira?"

His personality seemed to perk, and he studied me for a moment. "Do you think there is?"

I spooned more cake into my mouth, talking through my mouthful. "I was considering it last night. I mean, those two murders didn't fit Kira's criteria at all. They were so petty. There are criminals convicted of way worser crimes still living, so ending the lives of those presenters seemed completely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

"Plus, there was no reason for him to have it happen live on air. Kira's been around for months, and no one's doubted his existence, but it's like he's suddenly felt the need to prove himself. Why now? Why this moment? And who's he trying to impress?"

The older male hummed. "A second Kira. It's plausible. After all, the suspect we've been pursuing up until now has required both a name and a face to kill his victims. This time though, he demanded only that I appear on TV, but made no request for my name."

"Which means he only needs a face," I determined with a grin.

"Correct," L praised, turning to his laptop and opened an internet browser, typing in two names that I didn't recognise.

Curiously, I dipped my head over his shoulder. "What're you doing?"

"I'm looking at the victims he used for his predictions on tape number one."

A few minutes and several clicks later, the detective decided he'd found what he wanted and sat back, saying, "It appears that both of their names were only reported in tabloids and daytime talk shows."

I nodded slowly. "Right. Meaning?"

"It's as you said - the real Kira has no need to prove himself using such insignificant criminals, but, from the perspective of a second Kira, he wanted to make absolutely certain that he didn't predict a death of a criminal that could potentially be killed by the real Kira first."

My smile was one constructed of shameless victory and unease. I'd felt pretty proud of myself for devising a theory that was likely to be true, but even so, it was a scary thought.

This was getting serious.

"So, from now on, we should assume there are two Kiras?" I asked, wanting clarification.

A blunt " _yes_ " was all I got.

I huffed. Great. Now, there were two sociopaths waking the streets with some supernatural power that we couldn't comprehend. Locating the original Kira was proving to be challenging enough, so how small were the chances that we were going to catch both of them?

My God, we were never going to finish this investigation.

"I plan on inviting Light Yagami to the task force," my companion declared out of the blue.

"Oh yeah? So he's still dominating the suspect list then?"

"There is no reason for me to suspect him any less that I previously did."

My expression became sour. "I don't think the Chief will be very pleased to hear that."

L, as always, did not care. "It matters very little how Mr Yagami feels."

I shoved him angrily in the ribs, narrowing my eyes. "Be a bit more sensitive, would you? This is someone's son we're talking about - someone's brother; someone's friend. He's not just another statistic to scrutinise. He's a human being, the exact same as you and I, and he deserves a small amount of humility until the allegations against him are either proven false or proven true." I took a pause to swallow another bite of cake. "Then, you can be as much of a jackass as you want."

L, understandably, was not impressed with that last statement.

"Hey, I don't blame you!" was my quick defence. "Light Yagami is definitely one of the shadiest people in Japan with an ego large enough to rival even yours. Even so, you can't say things like that about others and not expect to be rebuffed."

The older man frowned. "Why not?"

How could he not understand this? World's greatest analyser. Human lie detector. Sherlock incarnate. Couldn't understand why people got so upset after being labelled a criminal.

Yeah, something definitely didn't add up there.

"Because that's how society works, Ryuzaki. And besides," I said, softening my tone. "The Chief's gone through such an ordeal already. Don't push him over the edge again."

The heat of the conversation seemed to fizzle out then, replaced by a much colder tone (as well as a very awkward silence). Thankfully, the detective had another insightful question to ask:

"I have a large ego?"

 _Seriously_? Was he seriously asking that?

"Monumental, Ryuzaki."

With that having been clarified, the detective reverted back to our previous conversation as though there had never been any interruption. "I don't think we should tell Light of the possibility that we're considering a second Kira."

The blank expression that I pulled did nothing to hide the aversion in my eyes, and I only made this clearer by saying, "Bit harsh, don't you think? If you expect this kid to work with us--"

"Well, I didn't mean indefinitely," the other protested, selecting a singular Sakura TV tape from the table and holding it up for me to see. "I'm curious to see what his impression of these tapes will be prior to knowing ours. After all, Light's deductive reasoning is really quite incredible. He may suspect that these tapes are the work of an imposter or copycat imitating the original.

"So I'll ask Light to look over all of our information as well as our video evidence. If he comes to the conclusion that there could be a second suspect, then he'd be almost completely cleared of suspicion in this case."

I blinked. "But how will that prove anything?"

"Logically, if he is Kira, he'll want me dead, seeing as I'm the one leading the investigation against him right now. The way things are going so far, if I comply with this new subject's demands and appear on TV in three days, there's a very good chance I will die. I can't see the real Kira jeopardising such an easy opportunity to get rid of me."

Good Lord. If I had a dollar for every time this man concoted another stupid idea...

"You're playing tennis again, Ryuzaki," I scolded. "Light might be a genius, but he's not perfect. You can't really be suggesting that if he doesn't identify a second Kira, he therefore wants you dead - or vice versa. Mistakes do happen."

"I never said claimed that that wasn't true. If Light doesn't come to the same conclusion we have, there will still only be a five percent chance that he is Kira. In the case that that does happen, we'll inform him that we are investigating the possibility of a copycat and have him cooperate with us as planned."

Defeated, I let the issue go. "Fine. Whatever."

The conversation ended there.

* * *

The following day, the police released the tape which indicated that their answer was no: they refused to work with Kira. Good on them. They'd proved they had a backbone.

Needless to say, pseudo-Kira was pissed and, within that broadcast, promptly presented us with the option of having L or Deputy Director Kitamora appear on TV to face their executioner.

As chivalrous as our murderer was, he gave us four days to make up our minds. Gracious, right?

We left it to the ICPO to make the final decision.

* * *

The day after that, when the meeting at Interpol had concluded, the verdict came in: everyone was in favour for the detective to appear on TV.

L was rightly put off - ' _annoyed_ ' in his words - but the ICPO's blatant display of backstabbing betrayal didn't defuse his spark (and by spark, I meant his pursuit of the vendetta he held against Light Yagami). He was adamant that Pretty Boy would join the task force and undergo his analysis.

We'd reiterated our theories to the other task force members later that afternoon, evoking little more than a handful of shocked outbursts, and extremely raised blood pressures (mine included) and then, with the permission of Mr Yagami, requested that Light join our mighty cause.

I was still raging at L's proposal that we shouldn't tell Golden Boy about the chances of there being a second Kira. For starters, it was completely unprofessional. By not telling someone who we were expecting to work with - suspect or not - crucial information, we were just setting ourselves up for trust issues. I could imagine there was already a huge wall stacked between L and Light after the initial accusation was made, one which would only be stacked higher if the insensitive detective had his way.

Secondly, he was blatantly rejecting every piece of information that I'd told him a few nights prior - that there was no textbook method to act innocent. Of course, there was no doubt in my mind that Kira would want L out of the way as soon as possible, and there was a very high chance that Light would deny any involvement of a second Kira in order to see L appear on TV if he truly was our killer. However, what I don't think L understood is that it was impossible to pull the wool over someone's eyes if that said person was as perceptive as Light Yagami. There was just no way. Light could easily assume what it was we wanted to hear and feed it to us, feigning innocence behind the mask of a faultless whizkid. Even if Light really was innocent, the system worked both ways. His denial of any second Kira could be an honest mistake - it didn't have to mean he was guilty.

My inner voice screamed at me to voice this opinion but I decided to keep my mouth shut out of pure spite. L was a big boy. He needed to learn for himself the errors of his judgement.

Everyone was in bad spirits that afternoon. They'd been in bad spirits for the past three days. Sure, time had passed since Ukita's murder, but the pain shrouding it still hadn't faded - and this much was made very obvious.

I felt an odd sense of melancholy as I observed the worn out faces of my fellow men seated across the room. It was like they'd all aged a thousand years, their faces grave and grim. Where were the men I'd gone drinking with? They were hopeful, happy men who'd shared jokes and laughed and told me about their families with pride burning in their eyes. It was depressing as hell to see them in such a sad state (though, at the very least, Matsuda still showed he had the ability to smile, so all hope wasn't lost).

Chris arrived late that day. Far later than usual. I mean, God knew that man's punctuality was horrendous, but he'd never be that late by choice. Eventually, I learned he'd had the privilege of having a ride in one of L's prized Roll's Royces, having attended rehab that morning - accompanied by Watari. Despite the circumstances behind it, I was almost jealous.

My friend looked much more weary than usual (withdrawal symptoms, I presumed) with his movements seeming slow and sluggish in comparison to his usual active pace. I had a sinking feeling that he might end up keeling over so, as he passed me by, I took him by the shoulder and led him to the couch situated across the room.

"Hey," I said quietly, sliding myself into the space beside him. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm okay."

He wasn't, but then again, neither was anyone else. Progress was slow, tension was high, and everyone seemed just about ready to resort to drugs and booze. It almost made me glad that we'd invited Light to join us. I had been hoping his presence might lighten the mood (no pun intended). He would definitely cheer up the Chief, who was arguably the most distressed out of us all, and that was enough reason to look forward to our new addition.

A sharp knock on the door alerted me to the arrival of said addition. Watari went ahead and answered it, moving aside to reveal Light Yagami stood there in all his angsty teenage glory (and by that I meant sharp, sophisticated man-glory; he literally looked as though he was ready for an interview, and that told us enough about what kind of person Light was).

The room fell into a respectful silence as he entered, a confident smile tugging at his lips. He strode over to the dark haired man, and the pair shook hands.

"Thank you for joining us, Light."

"Not at all," the younger man replied, relinquishing his grip. "After all, I want to catch Kira as much as you do, Ryuga."

I smothered my laugh behind an obviously forced cough. Hideki Ryuga - the dreamy Japanese idol. The fact that L chose that particular name out of every Japanese name in existence was still the funniest thing I'd heard in months. Sadly, seeing as the detective was the actual definition of a killjoy, he decided to correct him, insisting that Light refer to him as Ryuzaki within this professional environment.

The rest of the task force took this as an invitation to introduce themselves, using their delegated aliases that'd been established months ago. Considering that Light had been introduced to me on two (extremely awkward) separate occasions, I saw no reason to burden him with my cursed presence a third time, and so I stood back.

It was only when my friend introduced himself as a certain Hiromi Tsuru that I was reeled back to reality.

Brows knitting together in confusion, I glanced over to my partner with an expression of surprise, looking him up and down, judging shamelessly. Chris had a Japanese alias? Since when? And why the hell was it so *feminine?

I shook my head in a grim, mournful sort of way. Honestly, he was the worst at picking aliases - both English and non. I pitied Chris' future children for they would be bullied in the schoolyard.

When everyone had finished with the formalities, Light turned back to the other male.

"Alright then. I suppose I should start calling myself Light Asahi."

L nodded. "Yes, please do. To keep things simple from this point on, I'll just call you Light."

Clearly not wanting to waste any time, the detective provided Light with all the information we'd collected thus far (excluding the important detail about a second Kira, of course, as that would spoil the main event) and directed him towards the TV.

"I'd like you to examine these videos," he told the boy. "They were sent to the Sakura TV station but were never aired. For security reasons, you're not permitted to take notes and all materials must remain here."

Light affirmed his understanding with a stern nod of his head, and settled himself in the armchair situated before the television.

The four tapes were then played in sequential order, starting with the first tape and ending with number four. It didn't take too long (apparently Kira had better things to do than pen down his brooding thoughts). When the last tape eventually clicked off, the room fell silent without the crackling ambience or the imposter's distorted voice to fill it. We waited expectantly as the detective approached Light, thumb resting precariously on his lower lip.

"So, what do you make of this, Light?" he asked keenly. "Have you come to any conclusions?"

The boy in question remained still, most likely conjuring up a reply that would hopefully please the man looming over him like a menacing shadow. A few beats later, he stood, a look of certainty in his amber eyes.

"It's hard to say for sure," he began. "But there might be another person out there with Kira's power."

Despite how I was already confident he'd suss it out, I couldn't be sure whether I felt like clapping or whipping out a pair of handcuffs.

 _Strange genius child_.

"With Kira's power?" His father echoed, elation masked behind a desperate gaze. "What do you mean by that, Light?"

"Well, at the very least, I'd say this tape was not created by the Kira we're so familiar with. It's extremely out of character for him to use these kinds of victims for his killings," the son explained, gesturing to the TV behind him. "And since we've established that he needs a name and face to kill, it makes you wonder how he was able to kill those officers outside the television station like that."

The whole group exchanged glances: some of nerves, some of glee, and some of malicious excitement. With all those emotions buzzing about, the atmosphere in the room became tense and everyone could feel it.

"I think you're exactly right. We also believe this is the work of a second Kira."

Despite the vastly positive response to his explanation, Light's face fell and he crossed his arms. "So you knew about this all along? Meaning this was just another one of your tests."

 _Ha. Busted_.

"It wasn't my intention to test you."

A laugh swelled in my throat, threatening to spill out in a harsh bark, but for the sake of the progressive relationship between suspect and Sherlock, I glued my mouth shut.

The detective continued, lying with alarming ease. "The truth is, if I were the only one who thought there was a second Kira, it wouldn't be too convincing, but the fact we both came to the same conclusion makes the theory that much more believable. As expected, you did not disappoint us. You've been a great help, Light."

The boy in question didn't look mildly happy, but appeared to accept the compliment.

"It's decided then," the detective said aloud, turning to the rest of us. "First and foremost, we must focus on stopping this copycat. From what we've already seen, he sympathises with the real Kira but clearly lacks his sophistication. I believe he may even be willing to obey the original. If so, we could lure him into a trap by sending our own message, leading him to believe it's from the real Kira."

"Oh, and Light," L added, sounding oh so sweet and so innocent. "I would like you to play the part of the real Kira."

Unable to help myself, I snorted quietly from where I stood, shaking my head in disbelief. Of course he would want Light to portray Kira. Who else could be better for the job than the prime suspect himself? What a perfect little setup this was.

Smooth, Ryuzaki. So smooth.

He _really_ had it out for this kid.

Naturally - and as one would expect - Light was a bit surprised to hear this, wariness present in his voice. "What? _Me_ as Kira?"

The other nodded vigorously. "Yes, you're the only one I can think of who would be able to pull something like this off."

Really? The only one able to pull something like this off? Ah yes, reading from a script. Reading words. What a painstakingly hellish task. Only the chosen one could possibly tackle such a feat.

Once again, I began to shake my head, feeling oddly amused by this faux naïf version of my boss. Despite the fact that he was quite obviously targeting Light, the way in which he was doing it was pretty funny, like what you'd see out of a sitcom (only missing the laughing audio cues inbetween each joke).

Before the poor kid even had a chance to reply, L spoke again. "At any rate, we don't have any time to spare. Do you think you could devise a message from Kira in time for it to be aired on this evening's national news?"

Light still seemed sceptical but nevertheless, he still agreed to do as asked, which most likely pleased Ryuzaki immensely. Like the hard worker I knew only too well, Light immediately got to work, seating himself at a nearby coffee table with pen and paper in hand. The rest of the task force separated, seating themselves at different areas of the room. Matsuda, bless him, even went over and pitched some ideas to Light, who took them into consideration.

I watched as he tapped the pen against the edge of his thumb repeatedly, deep in thought. It was fascinating to watch. I was honestly surprised to see how someone in his situation could be so calm. What was even more surprising was how easily he'd agreed to do all of this; simply sitting himself down, paper on desk and pen in hand, as though this was just another one of his study sessions. Strange, _strange_ genius child.

I would've indulged myself a little while longer, that is, if a mass of dark unruly hair didn't suddenly block my view. Said mass of dark unruly hair was headed in my direction, and I took advantage of the opportunity to scold him for being so cruel.

"That was nasty," I whispered to the detective as he shuffled past.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," he mumbled back, still maintaining that innocent facade despite the knowing look in his eye.

I threw him a look that said ' _oh yeah, really_?' but chose not to argue. It would be fruitless either way. There was no winning an argument against the great L.

Sighing, I walked over to the couch where Chris sat. His blonde bangs hung over his face like curtains and I couldn't help but swipe them out of his eyes as I nestled myself in the space next to him. The movement startled him slightly but nevertheless, he offered me a halfhearted smile.

"Why so glum, sugarplum?" I crooned.

He glanced over at me, and then gestured towards the diligently working Adonis typing away at the laptop. I sniggered.

"What, you don't like Golden Boy?"

Chris head snapped back. "You _do_?"

I shrugged, feeling quite unsure of what I thought of Light Yagami at the present time. What could I say? I hadn't had an opportunity to genuinely talk to the guy and get to know him (the freshman ceremony didn't count - I'd been lying; he'd been lying; everyone but Hideki Ryuga had been lying). I'd only seen as much as Chris had. Well, excluding that one week where I watched his every move through hidden cameras, but even then, I didn't really get to know much about him other than the fact he was more boring than Sunday mass. Seriously, how many equations could one kid do in a single night? Weirdo.

"He's smart, confident, and he gets on with his work without fault; a bit like his dad, and I like his dad. So, yeah, I suppose I do like him," I decided.

There was a short - notably strained - pause before he replied, "Are you sure that's not just because of his pretty face?"

Oh, here we go again. _PROTECTIVE BROTHER FIGURE enter stage left._

Did he seriously think I'd go for someone who was a full year younger than me, fresh out of high school and barely legal by American law? Not to mention that this kid was also a huge egghead who somehow succeeded in making me seem like a dunce. That fact alone crossed him out from my list of potential hookups - I did not date men whose mental capabilities surpassed my own.

Still, Chris didn't know that, and I was feeling playful today.

"I mean, yeah, there's that factor as well."

His reaction was instaneous and very, very funny.

"Need I remind you that this kid is a work colleague, and also the prime suspect in our investigation? Out of all people, you should know this the best; you're the one who spent a week of your life spying on him."

I flashed him a dark glance, narrowing both eyes as I did so, really not wanting to be reminded of my unwitting perversion on a helpless family.

Chris took note of the look in my eyes and raised his hands in defence, backing away from my intense glare. "Hey, I'm just saying that it's a bad move. Developing a non-professional relationship with a colleague is bad news in any working environment, never mind the Kira investigation."

"There's no need for you to get so worked up, Chris!" I argued. "I'll be honest, if you're so desperate to hear it: he's very pleasing to look at. Even so, that's not his only admirable quality. He's got a brilliant mind, plus he actually wants to work on this case. For someone so young, that's rare. Most people wouldn't be willing to risk their lives."

"Why do you keep talking like he's so much younger than you?" Chris asked. "You're only a year older than he is, you know."

I shrugged, leaning back. "What can I say? I'm an old soul."

"Oh, yeah? Should I start calling you grandma then?" he joked, earning him a playful nudge in the side.

"What do you think of Light then, since you clearly have such a strong opinion of him?" I countered, watching Chris' face darken.

He lowered his head to face the floor, grumbling under his breath. _Smart-ass_ was all that I could make out.

I snorted, shaking my head at the bluntness of that statement. "You're terrible."

"Oh, come on, man," he groaned. "This guy is like a Mafia boss. He's so smooth, he could sell ice to the Inuits."

"He's _eighteen_."

"He's a genius."

"So is our current employer. I don't see you talking shit about him."

I tripped him up there, and the confidence fled from his eyes.

"There's a difference," the man said eventually. "L's a genius whose opinion is fact. That kid's a genius who you definitely couldn't trust as far as you could throw him."

I raised a brow. He gave a fair point.

There were two very different types of geniuses. The lawfully good geniuses who harnessed their intellect to find cures for fatal diseases or new planets to live on or, in our case, find psycho megalomaniacs. Then, there was the neurotic evil geniuses - undoubtedly the most menacing of villainous tropes - who would much rather watch the world burn than help make it better. At present, it was difficult to say which category Light Yagami fell into.

_Speaking of falling..._

My eyes drifted towards the outside view of Tokyo's shining skyline, and I smirked.

"Well, I bet if you threw him out of that window, he'd go pretty far."

Chris' expression flickered between annoyance and mild amusement, before settling with annoyance. I watched him smugly. No more comebacks? Good. It looked like I won this round.

_Agent: 1 Chris: 0_

"Whatever," I sighed. "I'm going over to talk to him."

My friend pulled the same expression a schoolgirl would pull if someone mentioned cooties. "Why?"

"I, as a knowledge-hungry intellectual, want to dig a little deeper into the enigma that is our suspect. Believe me, this is purely work-related," I tried to assure, my voice adopting a much softer tone. "I'll just go for a bit of good ol' fashioned small talk, maybe slip in a few flirtatious comments here and there."

"What is he going to do, Chris? Kill me with his insanely good looks?" I teased, chuckling. "Perhaps he'll make my heart stop!"

The man in question cocked a brow at that last comment (he wouldn't admit it, but he was impressed by that pun), releasing a long exhale instead.

"Fine. Don't drench your panties," he said wryly, chuckling to himself as I walked away. 

In retaliation, I made sure he didn't miss the obscene gesture I tossed his way before crossing over to my target. As I came to stand behind my victim, I noticed that his breathing pattern changed - meaning he could likely sense the presence of the annoying fly hovering over his shoulder - but chose to ignore me nonetheless. I didn't blame him. Why would he want to encounter me a third time? I was just a bad omen. Still, I wanted to have a conversation, and so I instigated one.

"How's the script going?"

The kid tore his gaze away from the paper and I allowed a polite smile to grace my features, hoping to avoid any more awkwardness between us this time around. Third time's a charm, right?

"I think I'm doing good so far. Do you want to take a look?" He asked, to which I nodded my head eagerly.

Light handed me the paper as I took a seat beside him, and I skimmed my eyes over the many words that littered the page. Before I'd even finished the first paragraph, I was grinning. I'd admit it, I was impressed. He'd written it in a style that was not too disimilar to the copycat Kira's message -  sophisticated in tone, but still conveying that underlying threat. Not to mention, he'd added a cheeky little insert that basically translated to ' _kill L_ ', which I didn't think the detective would take very kindly to... _Perfect_! Not bad, Kira suspect.

In fact, it was pretty good. Perhaps too good?

"I like it," I determined after reading the whole thing, a smirk pulling at my lips. "It's straightforward, demanding, and yet still manages to be somewhat civil. I think that's exactly how Kira would word it. You seem to have gotten right inside his head."

Light smiled briefly and narrowed his eyes scrutinisingly. "I can't tell whether that's a compliment or an accusation."  
The underlying panic in his voice forced a laugh from me. "Take it as you will."

He seemed to relax a little, the tension leaving his shoulders in a single, relieved breath.

"But no, I think you've done excellent. I especially like this part," I said, pointing to the very obvious yet passive death warrant. "Personally, I think it's quite befitting of our killer, but I don't think the detective will appreciate it."

Light chuckled uneasily, staring at me a moment too long, before asking, "You don't like Ryuzaki much, do you?"

Genuinely not expecting an inquiry like that to be directed at me, it took me a few seconds to reply. "I do like him. I just don't act like I do. Once you get past the condescensing comments and intense staring, he's not a bad guy."

"I can take the comments. It's just... why does he sit like that?"

"God only knows," I replied, shaking my head. "You'll get used to it after a while - and yes, coming to that realisation is terrifying."

"Light, have you finished that script yet?" The voice of the detective called from afar. "I'd like to have it recorded as soon as possible."

The boy swiped the paper from the table and held it out to the detective in one flawless movement. We both watched as the detective's eyes skimmed over the words, his face still lacking any sign of emotion. I could pinpoint the _exact_ moment when he read the ' _MURDER L_ ' section and, as anticipated, he wasn't too enthusiastic about it.

"So, what do you think?" Light asked, eager for a response. "I think I managed to make it somewhat believable."

"I think you've done an excellent job with this," the man responded, lowering the paper from his face. "However, if we don't emit the part that says 'you're free to kill L', then I'm going to end up dead."

Light laughed, a nervous strain obvious in his tone, probably now releasing just how much more suspicious this made him. "Sorry, I guess I got a bit carried away with playing the part. I figured that if I were him, I'd demand that you be killed. I was improvising. Feel free to change it to whatever you like."

He did so and, having adjusted what was necessary, gave the script to Aizawa to be recorded and later broadcasted.

Then, the waiting began...

* * *

The hour we waited was a long one. We all either sat or stood, some pacing back and forth, clasping our hands together in anticipation. It was agonising to wait with the knowledge that our video had already been aired and the vast majority of Japan had already witnessed it, yet we had no response. As the clock ticked on, I was beginning to doubt our chances of success and started to consider that our second killer wasn't someone who could be fooled so easily.

However, as the previous hour rolled into the next, we got our response.

Emitting two sharp, alerting beeps, L's monitor switched itself on and presented us with a blank background bearing the letter **W** \- _Watari_. Without moving from my slouched position on the couch, I turned lazily to face the laptop and listen to what the old man had to say.

"Ryuzaki, we have a reply from the second Kira."

I pulled a face of shock and straightened myself up. Beside me, Chris shook his head in disbelief. "So soon?" He whispered.

"I know, right. You'd think a homicidal copycat killer would have better things to do."

Watari continued. "I'll be bringing over the envelope and tape that we received but, in the meantime, I'll be streaming a copy of the video so you can view it on your end."

The computer screen switched to show the background the second Kira had used in the tapes sent to Sakura TV. There was a long moment of silence and I took this time to push myself off the sofa and join the others, leaning towards the laptop with a sense of intrigue.

"Kira, thank you for your reply," the familiar distorted voice droned out once more. "Please, don't worry. I will follow orders and do as you say. I really want to meet you."

I cocked an brow, smiling at our small victory. Wow. We'd really done it.

Either we were all exceptional con-artists or this guy was a total pushover. Honestly, it didn't even feel like this was the same heartless criminal who'd killed two civilians live on TV before proceeding to threaten the police force and demand that L appear on TV like a lamb to slaughter.

What had made him so submissive all of a sudden?

There was a short pause in the video, as if building up dramatic effect, and this only made the next sentence sound so much more menacing.

"I don't think you have the eyes," the second Kira said slowly, as if musing to themselves, before quickly interjecting. "But, you don't need to worry! I would never try to kill you. That's a promise."

 _Eyes_? What was _that_ supposed to mean? Had they're been something mentioned about eyes before? If there was, I couldn't recall. Perhaps it was some sort of code? Or perhaps they were just messing with us. It wouldn't be the first time Kira had tried to baffle us with the whole ambiguous ' _L, do you know Gods of Death love apples_?' message he sent us a month or so back.

"Please tell me how I can meet you before the police find out about this - you'll think of something, I'm sure. And when we do meet, we can confirm our identities by showing our shinigami to one another."

 _Shinigami. Gods of Death_. If I wasn't so taken aback, I would've scoffed at the sheer absurdity of that comment. However, the fact that the original Kira had mentioned Gods of Death prior to this shook me right down to my bones.

They couldn't have made contact before now; it was impossible. The second Kira hadn't even made themselves known by the time the ' _original_ ' had crafted that message, so that could only mean one thing: Shinigami wasn't just a passive phrase. There was genuine meaning to it.

I would've applied deeper thought on the matter if it weren't for the loud cry that suddenly tore through the air. Startled, all heads snapped in the direction of the source - to the one person that I'd have least expected to scream in this situation.

We all watched, stunned into a motionless silence, as the detective threw his hands sky high and promptly fell out of his chair and onto the floor.

I glanced around to make sure I wasn't experiencing some sort of weird sugar induced hallucination. Seeing the collective shock forming on the officers' faces, I determined that it wasn't my sanity that was being compromised, but rather the detective's - who was currently crumpled pitifully at my feet.

_What the fuck was happening?_

The others snapped to their senses quicker than I and ran to the poor man's immediate aid, asking him if he was alright.

I remained immobile. I didn't think I'd ever hear a noise out of someone so... _well_ , someone so much like L. He wasn't fazed by anything. He was just zen. What could've set him off?

Shakily, the detective sat up, staring wide eyed at the television like a kid watching his first horror movie.

" _Shinigami_?" He murmured disbelievingly, a slight stutter jumbling his words. "Am I supposed to believe that Shinigami actually exist?"

The rest of the group appeared just as dazed as the detective. Apparently, no one knew what to make of this, doing little else than staring in shock at the laptop screen. Distantly, I could see that some of them had turned pale and I couldn't help but wonder if they were actually scared.

Seeing as no one else seemed mentally capable to form a coherent sentence without whimpering, I decided to take charge.

"Alright, everyone needs to man-up and pull themselves together right now."

By everyone, I was exclusively referring to L, because he was just being ridiculous.

"We can't know for sure if Kira's use of Shinigami is literal. For all we know, it could just be code. We can't start getting hysterical and jump to conclusions until we're absolutely certain we know what we're dealing with. I strongly doubt we're dealing with an actual God of Death."

"Exactly right," Light added, backing me up. "Listen to yourself, Ryuzaki. Of course Shinigami dont exist."

I mentally high-fived Golden Boy (I didn't dare to actually raise my hand for a high-five. I had a sinking feeling he'd leave me hanging, and that would just be embarrassing and sad).

The origami human laying on the floor slowly craned his neck back to face Light, a bead of sweat trickling down the plane of his forehead. He looked genuinely nervous; I never thought I'd see the day.

"You're probably right," he said quietly, his voice little more than a mumble. "But I distinctly remember that Kira had those prisoners write something that suggested the existence of Shinigami."

"Could there be a chance that we're dealing with the same person?" Mr Yagami suggested. "It would definitely explain why we're hearing the same words."

Light shook his head firmly. "I don't think so. If this were the same person, it's highly unlikely that he would've responded to our video in the first place. And why would he let L live after going through all the trouble of getting him to appear on TV? The real Kira wants him dead, so it doesn't make any sense."

Pretty Boy made a compelling argument. The original Kira didn't seem like the type of guy who would want hassle, and this entire farce seemed like it'd require a lot of time and effort, especially if there was just one guy behind it. Truthfully, I doubted Kira would want to waste his time trying to fuck with our heads and would rather spend it idly ticking criminals off of his Naughty or Nice list.

"Maybe there's some other connection between the real one and this new guy," Aizawa pitched in. "Maybe they already met and decided to use the word Shinigami as a way to confuse us."

"I'd say that's unlikely," L intercepted, a strong sense of certainty to his tone, as he pushed his chair back to its upright position and perch himself on it once more. "It's as Light says. If the two Kiras were indeed connected, I don't think the imposter would be so willing to give up on his plan to kill me. In my opinion, all of this suggests that the copycat has his own agenda and is acting independently. I believe his actual motivation is to meet the original."

 _Oh, how lovely_ , I thought. So, the fake wants to meet the original so they can join forces and rule together in beautiful anarchy? Hadn't this second Kira seen any action movie ever? The antagonist's fellow ' _partner_ ' always ended up getting thrown to the lions at the first sign of danger, so this was just a really poor move on the copycat's behalf.

"I think you're right. He's definitely acting out of an interest in Kira," Light agreed, folding his arms across his chest. "The word ' _Shinigami_ ' could very well be some reference to their killing power. Saying that we can confirm our identities by showing each other our Shinigami probably means that they confirm their identities by somehow demonstrating their abilities to kill."

There was a stunned silence in the room as we all pondered on this possible explanation.

I heard L breathe out a faint, "Yes, that's it."

His eyes had grown more intense with focus, and his tone much more steady (by this point, he'd stopped acting hysterical and had reverted right back to super-serious-super-duper-detective-L mode, and was most likely repressing the past five minutes out of sheer embarrassment. I had a good feeling that if I questioned L about his dramatics later, he'd deny anything ever happened).

"Based on their messages, we can assume that the word Shinigami must hold some other meaning that only the two Kiras are aware of," the man continued. "Now, all we need to do is convince this copycat to tell us what that is."  
"That's easier said than done," I added grimly. "I mean, we can't just ask him what Shinigami refers to otherwise he'll realise we're not really Kira. If we are going to intervene, we'll need to be careful about what we say."

"No, I think that from now on, it would be best to leave it to the two Kiras."

Sounds of confusion echoed across the room.

"I imagine that the second Kira is probably feeling quite satisfied with the current situation, now that he's received a televised response. He sent a message to get Kira's attention and, as far as he knows, he now has it." He began to explain, holding his thumb to his lip. "Also there's that word he used, one that only the two of them would understand. We'll arrange to have the second Kira's reply broadcasted today on Sakura six o'clock news. Naturally this would be of interest to Kira and he'll likely be following the exchange between the copycat and the one that we've invented."

"Now, if I were Kira, my priority would be to prevent this imposter from coming into contact with the police. This is good for us. It may mean the real Kira feels pressured to respond this time."

"Okay, but let's say that he doesn't respond. Then what do we do?" Aizawa questioned, making a relevant point.

The detective hummed to himself, musing. "Yes, I've been thinking about what the second Kira might do if he gets no response. On one hand, he might reveal more information that Kira wants kept secret to pressure him into a meeting and, of course, that would make Kira nervous..."

He then looked up at us and smiled, a rare and slightly frightening sight to see given the circumstances. "It could be interesting. And what would be more interesting is if Kira sends a message of his own to prevent this from happening. Ideally, this could provide us with the physical evidence we'll need to build a case against him. In the meantime, I want you all to go home and gather as much information as you can on this copycat."

Collectively, we nodded, the rest of the group going about collecting their things. No one spoke as they left, likely overwhelmed by the new turn of events, but Chris gave me a quick hug before he exited.

I fell back onto the nearby couch, complying with the order L had given on finding info on the imposter.

It was a shame I no longer had the excuse of ' _oh, I live far, far away_ ' to fall back on. Now, I'd have to work (especially since I was under the watchful eye of my superior) when all I really wanted to do was sleep. To be fair though, I really wasn't missing the smell of downtown Tokyo: fast-food, cigarettes, and motorcycle gas. I'd much rather put up with the slightly sanitised sting that every respectable hotel room had, combined with the scent of caffeine and cake. It wasn't a bad combo.

With a yawn, I reopened my laptop and settled further into the couch, feeling more than ready to jump into bed and/or out of the nearest window. In my state, I almost missed the figure passing me as he headed towards the door, and glanced up just in time to make eye contact with him.

Despite the awkward strain in our aquaintanceship, Light and I still had enough integrity within our bodies to perform a proper farewell, and so we did.

"Goodnight, Agent," he said with a kind smile, giving me a polite nod of the head. "Take care."

I nodded back. "You too, Light."

And with his exit, the population of the room fell to two. In the beginning, I might've started to sweat under the pressure of being alone in the same room with the estranged detective, but now there was a semblance of peaceful contentment. I typed away happily.

As L came to sit beside me, I looked over at him, asking, "So, what's your prognosis, my cynical friend? Still think Light's Kira?"

The detective completely ignored my second question, seeming much more interested in the endearing term I'd used in mindless passing. "I'm your friend?"

Taken aback by the response, having not even realised what I'd said, I blinked dumbly. "I mean, I live in your apartments and I eat your food, so I thought that meant we'd surpassed the minimum level of acquaintanceship. Why? Do you not want to be?"

Again, my question was averted.

"I've never had a friend."

I deadpanned. " _That's_... a bit depressing."

Was he being genuine? This guy was older than me and he hadn't met a single person who he could honestly consider a friend. Given, I could count the number of people who I considered to be my true friends on one hand, but at least that was better than having no one at all.

"Well, I'll be honoured to be your first friend - if you'll let me."

I turned to the other occupant with a hopeful gaze, only to see him staring at the floor with hard and questioning eyes, as though trying to comprehend the reason behind human existence. He looked completely catatonic.

With a chuckle, I poked him in the side, amused by his dramatic response. "Christ, you're acting as though this a life-changing revelation. Nothing would change, you know. You'd just be putting a label to our banter."

And the fact I borrowed his room. And the fact I could get away with poking him. And the fact he shared (note the sarcasm) his food with me. That's how friendships worked, right?

His brilliant mind took a few seconds to process this new development but eventually he raised his head and, much to my bewilderment, stuck out his hand. What in the--

"Alright. Then you're my first friend."

Awkwardly, I stared at it, withholding the urge to laugh in his face at his utter naivety.

"It's not a business transaction, Ryuzaki, but I'm flattered by your enthusiasm," I said, gently pushing his hand aside and turning back to my monitor.

The man glanced down at his rejected hand with something akin to robotic sadness and then looked back at me, declaring, "You're a terrible friend."

I laughed. "Right back at you, jackass."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Once again, I'm offending people's names. I apologise. Hiromi is a Japanese unisex name, but it's slightly more common for girls to be named Hiromi. This is similar to how Westeners view the name Alex as a name predominantly used for boys, or Ashley for girls, even though both are unisex. That's why I labelled Hiromi as being "feminine", not because it's exclusively a female name.
> 
> Well, I just compiled three shitty chapters into one semi-decent chapter that, once again, surpasses the 9000 word limit (*DBZ intensifies*) so I'm happy. 
> 
> Anyway, with that having been said, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter despite the soppy ending. I really wasn't sure how to end it. And yes, I made Agent L’s first friend because fuck Light; he doesn't deserve to be L’s first friend.
> 
> Sorry this took so long to upload btw. My exams finished in June, but I've been attempting to learn Latin over my summer break since I'll be studying it in college. Needless to say, my head hurts a bit. Latin is HARD.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Weeks passed. And nothing. A dull, quintessential nothing.

Well, not _entirely_ nothing. In that time, I'd finally organised another call with Jason in which he ( _begrudgingly_ ) agreed to give me more money. It was more than I'd had initially, but probably still not enough to support me for the following months (or years, or decades; however long this hellish case would last). With L's input, I'd invested into a number of certain stocks, and was steadily cultivating a small wealth of my own. Of course, my humble fortune couldn't hold a candle to the amount of cash L had stuffed into the pockets of his metaphorical jeans, but I was happy with it nonetheless.

Despite my steady inflow of money weighing down my purse, I decided I would still remain with L (for various reasons; namely because it meant I wouldn't have to commute every morning, and after all the conversations we'd shared about friendship, the poor guy just seemed lonely). The detective didn't seem to mind my limpet-like clinging, and we continued to live as we had erewhile - in a peaceful, symbiotic coexistence.

Still, with no signs of life from either of our two killers, it was a very boring coexistence.

Though, at long last, after a long eternity of aforementioned _nothing_ , we received - and by this, I meant we intercepted and thus stole - a message from the second Kira. Said message was constructed of yet another video and, interestingly enough, a sheet of paper taken from a journal - because apparently pseudo Kira liked to keep track of his non-murderous hobbies in life. Said paper was currently being dangled from the detective's spindly fingers as he studied its contents.

"The last entry," he mused. "It's clearly a proposition."

I outstretched my hand like an eager child begging for candy. "Here, I want to see."

The man obliged and my eyes skimmed the paper. All the entries listed dated back to 2006 from the first to last day of May. The dates in the journal seemed scattered; totally random; a bit boring to be honest. Still, pseudo Kira being the devious prankster he is, couldn't help but toss a casual Shinigami comment in the entry made on May thirtieth. I huffed.

"Oh, I'm so sick of hearing about Shinigamis!" I groaned, thrusting the paper back in the direction of the detective. "I swear, if someone mentions anything more about Gods of death or apples, I might just casually throw myself out of the window."

The rest of the task force looked slightly nonplussed by my passionate deceleration, but the detective hardly took any notice, his expression remaining unchanged.

"These windows are bulletproof; they don't open," he told me simply. His tone had shifted from its usual bored melancholy to something much more uplifted. Was he _teasing_ me? "You could try a lower floor, however."

"Don't tempt me, Ryuzaki."

Of course, I was joking. I'd never actually go through with it. I had way too much going for me. Besides, I hadn't even written out a will yet. Where would my humble fortune go? Who would I even include in my will? Having said that, did I actually like anyone that much to give them what few belongings I owned?

... _I'm on the Kira case. Why don't I have a will yet?_

"I would greatly prefer that you did not attempt to jump out of a window, regardless of what floor it is on, as it would most likely result in you dying," the detective argued. "Your death would not only be a complete waste of talent, but it would also be a shame to lose my first friend so quickly."

Somewhere behind me, I could hear an excited buzz - most likely Matsuda, the infernal gossip - but chose to ignore whatever eccentric comment he was making. Instead, I decided to give them a show; something to talk about. It could be funny.

"I'm so glad to see you care, Ryuzaki." I placed a hand over my chest, smiling with dramatic earnest. "I'm touched. My heart flutters."

Sadly, L was not playing ball. "If that's the case, you might want to see a doctor," he said.

I rolled my eyes. Geez, what a buzzkill.

 _Speaking of killing._..

Less than five seconds later, our prime suspect rolled in through the door, ramping up the tension by a tenfold and quickly reminding us that _oh yeah, Kira still exists._

Light sidled up to his father, speaking quietly. "Dad, hey, I got your call. He really wanted the journal broadcasted on TV?"

The Chief nodded, handing him the journal entry. The boy's eyes scanned the page, zeroing in on the line of kanji at the bottom of the paper. He read it only once, face morphing from minor confusion to sudden realisation and then understanding - and _there_ was the lightbulb moment (again, no pun intended).

L drifted into Light's space with as much subtlety as a toddler, eyeing the boy intently. "So what do you think? Is it real?"

The boy in question ignored the detective's creepy eyeballing, simply stating, "It's hard to tell at this moment in time. All I can say is that he must be very stupid."

Matsuda nodded eagerly. "Yeah, I agree. I mean, it's so obvious that he wants to meet Kira at the home game!"

"If we did air this message, it would create immediate chaos," Mr Yagami offered. "The game would have to be cancelled."

L gave a large sigh from behind us, stuffing a piece of chocolate into his face. He was the picture perfect example of a midlife crisis.

"I'm not even sure how to deal with this whole situation anymore," he moaned. "If we made the diary public, we'd be forced to make a televised announcement cancelling the game on the thirtieth. On the other hand, if we don't broadcast it, we can rest assured the second Kira won't do anything."

Well there we go. There was our game plan. Don't do anything. Job done.

"But won't cancelling the game just make him angry?" Matsuda asked. "There's no telling what he'll do."

L brushed off his worry. "Frankly, that's not a big concern. From what we've witnessed, it's safe to say the second Kira admires the first. He gave his word to the Kira we invented that he'd refrain from killing aimlessly. I'm inclined to believe that much is true."

He then raised an authoritative finger. "I say we make it public and make an announcement cancelling the game. At the same time, we'll announce that on May thirtieth, we will be setting up checkpoints on all roads leading to the Tokyo Dome. Finally, we'll send a response from our invented Kira; something along the lines of _I understand and I agree to meet you there_."

The entire lower half of my face slipped into a frown. _Was he serious_? That was a dumb fucking idea. If we really did this, we'd be giving the two Kira's so much leeway. We may as well have set up a tea party and politely invited our two killers to mingle and get to know each other. Sure, this gave us an opportunity to catch them both, but it also left a lot of space for the *Trojan Horse to get rolled in and mesmerise us. I couldn't speak for the others but I wasn't sure that I was prepared to make that chance.

"Wouldn't it be better to just do nothing?"

The detective turned his head, regarding me with minor interest. I instantly stilled under his ominous gaze. "Explain."

Shaking myself back to reality, I took a deep breath. "Okay, I understand that doing this might help us apprehend one of the two - if not _both_ \- Kiras, but at the same time, we're also handing them the perfect opportunity to confront one another. On more tha—come on, bear with me here. On more than one occasion, they've slipped between our fingers long before we even realised we'd grabbed them. Who's to say they wouldn't do it again?"

The men in the room exchanged glances, considering; debating.

"Think about it," I pressed. "The second Kira is more powerful than the original. That much is fact. He may be viewed as less of a threat since he's submissive to the first, but when we take into consideration that he only requires a face to kill, he's indisputably much more dangerous. Still, he acts on impulse and this makes him reckless, which is something I'm sure the first Kira recognises and would want to rectify.

"On his own, the second is much more likely to slip up, so the chances of us catching him are a lot higher. If we were to catch him, we could determine what he uses to kill, and - assuming the original uses the same weapon - this puts the first Kira at a disadvantage. But if the pair joins forces, then we're the ones at a disadvantage.

"The first Kira is clever; he knows how to hide. He's managed to do it for months now, and he's been doing it pretty darn well - excluding the incident with Lind L Tailor where he revealed his location like a moron, but that's not my point. He'd easily be able to deplete any chances of us catching him or the second Kira _and_ he'd have the second Kira's ability to kill with only a face, resulting in an even larger number of people being killed. Wouldn't it be best to stop any potential interaction between them before that can happen?"

L, whose expression had morphed into something utterly unnamable, shifted in his seat. "If we air the message as planned, I don't think the real Kira would even consider going to Aoyama, though it's possible the second one might. It all depends on how stupid he actually is." He paused before surmising, "An interaction is highly unlikely to occur."

"But what happens if it does?" I pestered. "What do we do then?"

"As I've just said, it's unlikely to occur."

"Yeah, but what _if_?"

The detective stared hard as if daring me to question him one more time. Obviously, I was irritating him - and that thought filled me with a twinge of sadistic glee - but I had to get my point across. The world's greatest detective was being ignorant and that was not okay. He needed to consider all the possibilities. We were tempting fate here, and if I'd learned anything over these past few months, it was that fate was a heartless bitch.

Still not convinced this was the right thing to do, I heaved a sigh of martyrdom. "Fine. We'll go with your plan. I don't like it, but fine."

I was willing to bet big money that we'd just made a mistake and now fate's good friend _irony_ was going to bitchslap us across the face and laugh.

As I stared at the back wall with disdain, the auburn haired teen and I caught one another's gaze and I made a point of rolling my eyes as if to say _Look Light! Now do you see what I mean? Stupid plans._ The boy merely smirked.

"Assuming the second Kira isn't actually the idiot we believe he is," L continued, paying no mind to my very obvious childlike sulk. "There might be another message hidden in this diary - one that's not so obvious.

"If there's a message here, written in some code that only people with this _Shinigami power_ can understand, there'd be no way for me to decipher it. Still, it would only make sense for us to look into all the places mentioned in the journal. On the twenty-second, he's meeting a friend in Aoyama. The twenty-fourth, he's meeting another friend in Shibuya."

L gingerly slipped another chocolate between his lips before continuing. "We have to be prepared for the possibility that all of our efforts will be fruitless. All we can do is place more surveillance cameras in Aoyama and Shibuya in the hopes that we might capture something. We should also arrange to have undercover officers in both locations on these dates."

Matsuda sat back in his seat, an easygoing and almost cocky grin on his face. "I should probably go to Aoyama and Shibuya since I'd blend in with the crowd there, you know."

My heart melted, and I very nearly hugged the poor guy. He was still clutching so desperately to his youth! How adorable. A tender smile brightening my face, I gave Matsuda a pat on the back, almost sympathetically. "I think I'll join you."

"I'll go too," Light decided, ignoring the blatant look of panic and distress blossoming on the Chief's face. "Aoyama and Shibuya are places I'd go anyway."

The detective agreed, understandably. Aoyama was a wealthy neighbourhood. Being the youngest, we'd look the most natural in that sort of setting. Matsuda... _yeah_ , I suppose he could still pass.

The end of the night saw us three huddled around the table like a group of Boy Scouts trying to learn how to pitch a tent. We were setting up the basis for our trips: when and where we'd meet, how we'd get there, what we'd actually do once we arrived, etcetera.

"It shouldn't be too hard to pull off," I said with airy confidence. "Our faux killer will likely be too busy looking for Kira to even consider the police." To further emphasise my nonchalance, I shrugged. "Besides, we're going undercover. He won't suspect a thing."

To the right of me, I couldn't help but notice the small half smile growing on Matsuda's face. He'd gushed about going undercover to catch Kira before, hadn't he? He was so excited. It was adorable.

Outside, I could see that the warm haze of the sun had begun to fade, replaced by a grim and greyish dusk. Speckles of light began to shimmer as office workers clocked in for their night shift and homeowners began to settle for the evening.

Light raised his head, eyes tired and unfocused, glancing to the window. "Looks like it's getting late," he said. "We can talk more about our trips tomorrow."

Matsuda hummed, gathering his things. "Sounds good, Light."

The pair stood, heading towards the exit. I did the opposite, crossing the suite towards the bedroom, looking forward to some much needed sleep.

"We'll see you tomorrow, Agent!" I heard from the officer.

Attempting a halfhearted smile, I waved my hand lazily. "See you guys! Have a safe journey home. Call me if you need me."

The pair left the room, the sounds of their footsteps dwindling into silence.  I didn't care to show them out; they knew their way by now. Throwing open the door to my - L's - room, I practically collapsed on the bed, nuzzling my face against the pillow like an affectionate dog. With a low and content sigh, I slipped under the sheets, grabbing my phone from the nightstand and seeing that _One Missed Call_ was displayed across the screen in glaringly white letters. Having already taken note of Chris' absence that morning, I knew full well it would be him and swiftly dialled his number. A few strained dial tones, and then the quiet ambience kicked in, my friend's tired voice emitting from the phone's speakers.

" _Hello_?"

"Hey man. Where were you today?"

" _I wasn't feeling great. Withdrawal_."

"Ah."

A few awkward beats passed.

" _So, what happened_?" He asked. " _Anything new_?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah. We received some sort of journal from the second Kira. You're missing out."

I heard a scoff. " _Seriously_? _A journal_?"

"Mhm, I know right. The entries all date back to May last year, and they're completely random - you know, just generic diary bullcrap - but some contained specific locations."

" _Such as_?"

"Aoyama on the twenty-second, and Shibuya on the twenty-fourth. Seeing as our guy wanted this to be broadcasted, we're thinking there's a possibility it could be a way of arranging a rendezvous point with the original so they can meet."

Chris sounded impressed. " _Good thinking, Batman. And what are we doing about it_?"

"Exactly what he wants," I admitted, trying to hide my disgruntled groan. "We're going to broadcast the journal and send a reply from our fake Kira. Surveillance cameras are going to be put up around both locations in the hopes we catch something shady. A few of us will be going undercover as well, myself included."

" _You going alone_?"

"No. Matsuda will be there too," I said simply, purposefully leaving out the fact Light was coming as well, not wanting to wake the beast and face his brotherly wrath at this time of night.

Chris snorted. " _Have fun with him - if you can_."

"Matsuda's an angel. Leave him alone."

We talked for a few minutes longer, chatting and tittering until I noticed a shadow flickering in the doorframe. Judging from the slouched posture and wild head of hair, it wasn't Watari. No, Watari had the good sense to knock instead of lingering by the door like a vampire, waiting to be let in (though, taking into consideration his pale face and rabid insomnia, the vampire theory would actually explain a lot). I rolled my eyes at his behaviour, but felt I was in a good enough mood to humour the detective anyway.

"Hey, I gotta run. Talk to you later, yeah?"

My friend gave a hum. " _Sure thing. I'll call you in the morning_."

"Okay. Feel better."

" _Bye_."

The call clicked off and I placed my phone delicately on the nightstand, looking expectantly towards the door. "You may enter, bloodsucker."

He did so, albeit slowly, frowning at my joke. I smiled up at him. "What's up, Sherlock?"

As everyone in the task force was well aware, L wasn't one to beat around the bush, and he didn't do so this time, answering as bluntly as possible. "I want you to keep a close eye on Light during the entirety of your two trips. I have asked Matsuda to do the same."

Oh nice. I'd been subjected to babysitting duty. Couldn't wait.

"Yeah, I thought you would do," I mumbled. "So, what, do you want me to wear a mic or something?"

"No, I trust you enough to relay information back to me yourself."

I nodded. "Okay. That's fine by me."

The older man kept staring and even though I'd become used to his infrequent but incessant eyeballing, this was really starting to unnerve me.

"Anything else, Ryuzaki?"

"No," he declared promptly, turning to the door. "That will be all. Goodnight."

I watched him go, wondering whether it would be right or not to feel concerned. "Goodnight... _weirdo._ "

* * *

 The morning of our _super secret undercover mission_ (as Matsuda liked to refer to it as) greeted me with a bright yellow sun and and an angry red swarm of acne bumps. I groaned at myself in the mirror, begging the beauty gods that the spots would stay put and not burst forward in all their gross and gooey glory.

Tentatively poking one of the spots, I reached for my foundation. _Just in case_ , I told myself.

I hadn't worn makeup in weeks. I'd be damned if I didn't take advantage of this opportunity. Plus, I was going out in public. With people. _Young_ people. I'd much rather be viewed as part of the clique than as their homeless drug dealer. With that thought in mind, I used extra care as I applied the last of my makeup, blending in any blotchy foundation and wiping away mascara smears.

No. Today would be fine. Everything would go smoothly. Matsuda would pick us up and drive us there, and we would have a fantastic time looking for notebooks and pretending to be besties (even though Light and I can barely stand to be in the same room due to the awkwardness, and Matsuda is hopelessly oblivious and likes basically anyone). What a great day out!

I nodded to my reflection, confident and sure, and left the bathroom.

"You look different" was the first thing I heard and it did nothing to help my nerves.

Brushing my hair out of my face, I looked over at the detective, becoming unfortunately blasé to this sort of treatment. "I'm hoping you mean _good_ different in oppose to _bad_ different because I worked hard on this makeup today."

The detective scanned my face and I stood patiently like a good little spectacle. Apparently my eyeliner wasn't packed on well enough to suit his panda-like tastes as he asked me, "Why bother?"

 _Why bother_? _Why—?_

Resisting my primal urge to _strangle_ and _maul_ , I deadpanned. "Well, I am going out in public. With people."

"Yes, there do tend to be people in public spaces."

"Don't be snarky," I chastised. "You know what I mean. I just wanted to look nice for a change. Is that a crime, detective?"

He hummed. "I just see no reason why you would need it. I have not noticed any obvious flaws in your normal appearance."

Oh wow. Hello. _That_ was new. If I'd been your average teenage girl, I think I actually might've have blushed.

"You know, I think that's one of the nicest thing you've ever said to me. In fact, I think that's the only nice thing you've ever said to me."

Looking back, that statement rung true. L and compliments just refused to mix - unless, of course, he was on the receiving end. Even so, in spite of his cynical nature and massively inflated ego, L could be a genuinely nice guy when he tried.

"Well, you don't tend to invite many nice comments."

_I take it back. I hate him._

"Okay, now that's just rude!" I whined, crossing my arms. "I am a perfectly decent person."

"Shall we agree to disagree?"

"Oh, leave me alone, you ugly raccoon."

"I take offence from that."

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out, continuing to glare at the detective. "Good, I'd hope so."

 **Light Y**  
_We're close. Five minutes away._

I sighed, shoving my phone back into my pocket and double checking I still had my wallet tucked away (I had money now, so of course I was going to spend it as frivolously as possible).

"Alright, well the cavalry has arrived," I declared, giving the man a demure pat on the shoulder as I passed him (surprisingly, he didn't flinch). "I'll be heading down now. Adios amigo."

If he waved goodbye, I didn't see it.

* * *

Outside the hotel doors, a black Honda sat parallel to me, parked and waiting. A casually dressed police officer sat in the front seat, hands at the wheel, with a certain suspect sitting idly beside him. I slipped into the backseat, greeting my partners with a demure nod. "Morning, gentlemen."

Light returned the gesture as he we pulled away from the sidewalk. "Good morning."

"You seem grumpy," Matsuda pointed out, shifting the car into first gear. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"No. It's nothing new. Just Ryuzaki being an ass again."

Light chuckled. "I can understand that."

I snorted. "Can't we all? I called him a raccoon. Now I'm kinda afraid he might evict me. Or maybe he'll smother me in my sleep."

The pair looked at me incredulously, and I could only shrug. "Personally, I wouldn't put it past him to secretly want to kill us all."

" _What_?" Matsuda cried. "That's not true."

"No, think about it. You'll know this better than anyone else, Matsui, because you annoy him the most. You say anything - anything at all - and Ryuzaki looks as though he's ready to pounce on you."

There was a momentary pause and then Matsuda snickered. "I could say the same to you, Kat."

I blinked wildly at the nickname - seriously, _Kat_? Did I look like an animal? - but didn't ponder on it too much. My brain focussed more on what the older officer was insinuating. "What do you mean?"

"Have you seen the way he looks at you when you speak? Like the other day when we got the journal. He looked angry, yeah, but also... _riveted_. Light, you must've seen it too, right?"

The younger boy glanced to the side. "I wasn't paying much attention to be honest."

He didn't look like he was paying much attention now either, and I couldn't blame him. This conversation was better suited to teenage girls - not detectives. Even so, Matsuda was adamant.

"Still, the look was there. I think he _likes_ you."

The laugh that followed genuinely brought tears to my eyes. It was loud and brash, and I'm sure it gave the poor teen sat in front of me a headache, but I couldn't help it. The thought of the detective liking _anyone_ (other than himself and maybe Watari) was almost inconceivable. Plausible, perhaps, under the right circumstances, but the thought of the detective liking (as in _like-liking_ ) me of all people just seemed... _wrong_.

My brain could not process it. Would not. Nope. Nada. Outright refused. Not today. Moving on.

"Gosh, you're such a girl, Matsui!" I exclaimed, still clutching my stomach as I howled with laughter. "Seriously, you're pulling these allegations out of thin air."

"He called you his first friend," the elder argued. "That has to mean something!"

My face fell into a semi-serious deadpan. "Yeah, you do know what the definition of the word friend is, right? There's no _liking_ involved."

The man just continued to stare at me through the rearview mirror, a playful gleam brightening his eyes, brows wiggling suggestively. My amusement faded, minor annoyance setting in. I ground my teeth together.

"Matsui, I mean it. There is nothing going on between Ryuzaki and I."

"But you're living with him," he insisted, knowing full well that he'd found a weak spot, and was grinning cheekily. "Aren't you?"

Oh wow, he was really going to play that card. Back me into a corner why don't you, Matsuda? Fucking prick.

"Well, yeah, but that's incidental. It's not—"

"Then my point stands!" He cheered.

 _Lord, give me strength_. I wanted to punch the guy so hard.

I held up a finger, trying my darnedest to come across as serious and not to stumble over my words in embarrassment. "It's all down to circumstance. If I hadn't run out of money, I'd still be living on my own. The man antagonises me constantly. Were you not listening to what I was saying earlier about—"

"Okay, okay! So maybe you don't like him but, in my opinion, he _definitely_ likes you."

I cracked my knuckles warningly. "No offence, Matsui, but your opinion is stupid and invalid."

"Unrequited love," he crooned, wiping away a fake tear and sniffing. "It's so sad."

A groan tore its way from my throat. "Can you just drive please?"

Really, why was everyone so intent on tormenting me today? First L told me I was unlikeable (which, to be frank, didn't actually surprise me; he'd always been a dick), and now Matsuda - physical ball of sunshine with the face of a puppy and rainbows shooting out of his ass - was mocking me. Unlikely as it seemed, Light was being the most civil out all of the men I'd encountered today, and he was infamous for being a ratty bastard. Right now, though, he was my best fucking friend.

_Take this as a lesson learned, kiddies. Do not judge a book by it's cover. That book will eventually piss you off and you will want nothing more than to watch it burn._

We pulled into a small parking complex not too far from Aoyama, the neighbourhood in question looking glam and green across the way. The three of us headed towards the nearby university, approaching a rather daunting group of students who were throwing cheesy smiles in our direction. I threw a sceptical side glance to the teen walking next to me. What elaborate scheme had Golden Boy choreographed now?

"Excuse me, Light," Matsuda asked quietly. "Who are all these people?"

"These are some of my friends from university," he explained, turning to his schoolmates with a blindingly dazzling grin ( _probably fake_ ). "Everyone, this is my cousin, Taro. It's his first time in Tokyo, and he wants to see Aoyama and Roppongi, so I figured the least we could do is show him a good time."

He then gestured to me, and I tensed as their eyes crawled to find mine. "This is Katherine. She's visiting from the States so show her some hospitality, and help her out if she needs it. I'm counting on you guys."

Even though my ego was growling at Light's insinuation that I needed help adapting, I bowed low and respectful, maintaining my pleasantness whilst the group's attention was directed to me.

"Oh, and play nice, gentleman," he added, his slimy grin stretching into a even slimier smirk. "Someone's already got his heart set on her."

Some of the guys lets out deflated groans, and I laughed airily in response to Light's teasing, but inside, I felt every cell in my body seize in anger.

_Fuck you, Light Yagami. Fuck you and everything you stand for._

We integrated into the group with ease. From an onlooker's perspective, it might've even seemed like we belonged there. We mingled; made small talk when appropriate; laughed at each other's jokes, and feigned interest whenever one of Light's friends cared to share a funny anecdote. I didn't allow myself much time to enjoy it, keeping my eyes peeled for a sign of any dodgy behaviour... and notebooks apparently. Over the course of the next hour, I saw none. Nothing but hipster teens, mall babes, and _way_ too much PDA in my opinion.

Honestly, I was disappointed. Perhaps it'd been too naive of us to think that the second Kira would have made an appearance. After all, it'd just be the equivalent of walking into your own snare - a definitively stupid move. I'd like to think that pseudo Kira, in spite of his reckless killings, was smart enough to realise that. I mean, he'd managed to evade us for this long; he must have some brains.

Knowing we wouldn't get much more out of this pointless endeavour, we decided to close up shop for the day. Matsuda was tired. Considering how excitable he'd been, I wasn't really surprised. He was seriously like a little kid, exhausting himself after talking up a storm. The officer decided it'd be best if he went home, and we didn't stop him.

Watching as Matsuda's retreating figure melted into the crowd, I nudged the teen in the side. "Hey, do you want to stop for something to drink? I'm parched."

I received an unenthusiastic but compliant, "Sure."

Seeing as I had absolutely no idea where the best places were to sit and drink in Aoyama, I left it to Pretty Boy to lead the way, and we just so happened upon a quaint little coffee shop along one of the main roads. I'd much rather have gone for a martini or even some draft beer, but I decided this would suffice.

Taking a seat, I ordered orange tea instead of the usual coffee. After all, it wasn't doing anything for my health and I was growing concerned I'd develop an addiction and end up like the sugar-crazed insomniac. Light took for a *shincha tea. It was way too bland for my taste, but each to his own.

Settling down with our drinks, Light and I had delved into a little game of friendly interrogation, like twenty questions - but much more cryptic.

I already knew more about Light than he did me due to his dad's proud ramblings and the ( _borderline voyeuristic_ ) spying of him and his family, but he was much less two dimensional than I had figured. He wasn't boring like I'd initially decided. Contrarily, he was actually _really_ interesting to listen to. The things he discussed were mundane and generic (and maybe slightly cynical for a boy of his age), but the way he spoke was captivating. Like an Athenian actor, he was passionate and precise, luring my attention with a small smile or simple hand gesture, and holding me hostage with only his words.

Hell, Light could probably start reciting the Book of Leviticus and I'd still sit listening with unrivalled attention.

That was quite a scary revelation.

Although, I wasn't too enamoured with the boy when the tables were turned on me and I was forced to answer his torrent of questions. You could tell he was born and bred for police work. It practically became an interrogation!

"How old are you?" was one of his first questions, and I released a faux gasp of horror.

"By God, Light. You just committed the cardinal sin."

His face fell into an expression of confusion and very minor offence. "What?"

"Asking a woman her age," I explained, clicking my tongue scathingly. "That's despicable."

Realisation hitting him across the face, a string of humble apologies fell from the younger boy's lips, and I raised my hand to shut him up. "I'm kidding. It's fine to ask. I'm not much older than you actually. I've just turned nineteen."

His brows raised and he (not so discreetly) looked me up and down before asking, "Really?"

Oh, well that's flattering. Did I look _that_ old already?

Flinching, I asked, "Is it so hard to believe?"

Light instantly picked up on the source of my offence and soothed it with the tenderness of a masseuse.

"Of course not. You look great. It's just, in comparison to other people our age, you seem older."

I considered that for a moment. "Yeah, I see what you mean. I'd say the same applies for you."

"What about that man you were with?" He asked, a slight tilt to his head, giving him the appeal of a confused puppy. "Hiromi, was it?"

"Oh, him. He's twenty five."

That seemed to surprise him. "Is he really your boyfr—"

"No," I said, a little too quickly. "That was just part of the cover." Slightly embarrassed, I continued to insist, "He's a friend. A good friend. More like a brother if anything; we grew up together."

"You said you were from America when we first met," Light stated rather than asked.

"Yes, that's true. I was born in New York."

"So, as an American agent, do you work for the FBI? Or is it the CIA?"

"Neither. I'm more of a - shall we say - private investigator."

"Like L?" He countered.

I snorted a little, shrugging my shoulders lazily. "Nowhere near as good as him but yes, I'm like L. Though you could say I'm much more hands on than he is but essentially, we do the same job."

"Hands on?"

"Yeah. L is someone who works behind the scenes. This is the first time that he's shown his face to colleagues after all, and he's been solving cases for well over a decade. L is not very hands on.

“I, on the other hand, work like every other detective would. With people. Going to crime scenes; questioning the suspects; sometimes I've been sent out to apprehend the culprit and make the arrest." I grimaced, thinking back to those godawful on-foot chases. Hopping fences was a dangerous feat. My poor jeans never fully recovered. "Yeah, that's always a _fun_ time.”

"Wouldn't you say it's a bit risky?"

I let out a short laugh. "It can be, yes, but I've always been good at restraining people. I'm stronger than I look, you know."

Arrogance had infiltrated my tone like the troops in the *September Campaign and, even though I really wanted to make Pretty Boy squirm, I decided not to roll back my sleeves and flex. If he really needed to voice any doubts or sexist comments, I suppose I could just punch him. That should be evidence enough.

"Besides," I grinned. "Firearms are legal across the US, which makes the whole ordeal a hell of a lot simpler. People tend to respond better when you're holding a gun."

"Have you ever shot someone?" He said slowly, his expression shifting slightly. The pleasant smile fell from my face and I raised my guard, the tone of our conversation taking a sharp turn down morbidity street.

He was really asking if I'd ever killed someone, wasn't he?

_Alright, Kira suspect. I'll bite._

"Light, define murder for me."

The boy didn't even have to think. "The premeditated killing of another human being."

A textbook response. What else did I expect?

"Right. And do you believe that murder can be justified?"

This seemed to stump him, and he took a momentary pause. "The chances of me considering a murder justifiable are small, but I guess it would have to depend on the scenario."

"Alright, then let me give you an example - one that's quite common, sadly: a man's daughter has been raped. This man knows the identity of the rapist and kills him to avenge his daughter's dignity. Would that murder be justifiable to you?"

"Absolutely not. The man had other, more humane, options that could have led to his desired outcome."

"Good. My thoughts exactly. Do you think Kira would agree?"

Light opened his mouth, but I wasn't finished.

"After all, when you think about it, Kira has, in a sense, adopted the role of the father as his own - defending the righteous and the victimised, and killing those who've done wrong. True, he doesn't do it with a shotgun or a butcher's knife, but murder is still murder, right?"

He didn't answer. I didn't expect him to.

"Let me ask you another question. Light, do you think I'm a good person?"

"From what I've seen, yes. Obviously I still don't know you all that well but you seem like a nice woman and you're good company."

What a charmer.

"Thank you," I said honestly, pushing away any soppy, saccharine thoughts, and maintained my serious facade. "Can I tell you something personal about myself, Light?"

He regarded me warily, but nodded in agreement.

"It's something I don't tell a lot of people, so I'd have to ask that you keep it between us."

Again, he nodded, a little sharper this time.

I took a deep breath, willing my body to relax as every muscle turned to stone and my stomach did backflips. Looking up, I scanned the tables surrounding us, making sure all heads were downcast or deep in conversation. It made me feel slightly better, knowing that my secret wouldn't be shared with a handful of nosy strangers (but, by all means, tell a potential serial killer; that's way safer).

"I was a criminal."

 _Oh wow. Bit blunt, Agent_. Maybe L was starting to rub off on me.

Light sat back, eyes widening in surprise. "Really?"

I hummed. "A whole lifetime ago. I've renounced it now and I'm trying my best to make up for what I did, but I can't deny that that lifetime still happened.

"This'll sound like I'm making excuses for myself. I'm not, but there is more to the equation than X and Y. When I was younger - I'm talking prepubescent here - I had no home. I was orphaned at birth. Had no family. No connections whatsoever. I had to live on the streets. With no source of income, it meant I had to steal. Steal food, steal money, steal things to pawn. Shoplifting was probably my most recurring offence, but I did mug civilians every once in a while. Sometimes I got brave enough to break into someone's house, but not often."

Grimly, I glanced down at my drink, watching my reflection blur as the liquid swirled in the cup. "I resorted to violence on more than one occasion. I fought with others - people like me; thugs. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I still did it. It was just my method for survival. I didn't enjoy it."

"How old were you?" His voice had quietened, dipping into more dulcet tones. 

"When I committed my first crime, I was nine. My circumstances remained the same for two whole years."

"What changed?"

"I got lucky. Someone found me, took me in, gave me a life and an education." I broke off, adding a shaky chuckle. "I've been serving my own personal penance ever since."

The boy opposite didn't speak, likely sensing the delicacy of this subject... or perhaps plotting a way to murder me without drawing suspicion. It could've been either. Regardless of the reason, I appreciated his silence.

"Now, when I look back, I regret what I did. Immensely. It was a huge mistake, and I wish I'd never done it. But I had no other choice. If I hadn't done what I did, I wouldn't have been able to get money to buy food. Without that, I would've certainly have died. Do you think Kira would spare me if he knew that fact?"

He leaned back in his seat. "To be honest, no."

"Precisely. What Kira doesn't seem to understand is that people who commit crimes aren't necessarily bad people. All it takes is one bad day or a moment of desperation. Not every crime committed is an act of hostility. You can never know what's going on in a person's mind." I shrugged. "Besides, how can Kira truly know for definite that the people he's killing are guilty?"

The boy cocked his head. It was more of a jolt, if anything. "What do you mean?"

"I know the law system inside and out, and I'm sure you do too. It's corrupt - that much is undeniable. A considerable amount of people are placed in prison for a crime they didn't commit - or were framed for - and it can take years for the truth to come out sometimes. Kira kills before there's even an opportunity to reassess a crime.

"Then, there's the money aspect. Money makes the world go round after all. Did I ever tell you how much I hate lawyers, Light? Well, I do. Lawyers are leeches; they suck every penny out of those involved in their case. Some people just don't want to invest half their savings so they plead guilty to a minor crime to do a shorter sentence. Plea bargains, I think they're called. Some of those who are sentenced are guilty and some are not. Again, how can Kira decipher which is which?

"Really, there's tons of factors that Kira doesn't take into account when he kills criminals. His view is entirely two dimensional. He kills without knowing the context behind the crime and he doesn't stop to question whether his victim actually deserves what they're getting. That is why he needs to be stopped."

I took a breather, raising my hands in blank admission. "Even so, I'm not going to cross my fingers and say that 'I hate Kira with every fibre of my being' like a good little detective, because that's not completely true. Yes, I hate Kira's ego. I hate his hypocrisy. I _really_ hate how he's choosing to kill innocents for the sole reason that they pose a threat. Still, I don't _necessarily_ hate what he's doing."

It felt strange to admit that; traitorous almost. But it was the truth. Albeit, a brutal truth, but a truth nonetheless. Plus, I'd been hoping my passionate declaration would evoke some sort of reaction from our Kira suspect. Most likely, my hopes would be dashed as Light was an Oscar-worthy actor with an iron leash around his self control, but it was worth a shot, right?

"On the off-chance that Kira didn't make mistakes and murdered criminals who genuinely deserved the death penalty, then I could perhaps support him. If he showed mercy to those who were desperate or perhaps made a mistake, then I'd definitely support him."

Light's shock was practically palpable. "Really?"

"Oh, wholeheartedly. I uphold the law, sure, but even I can't deny that a world without criminals would be a better one. Let's face it, life would be so much easier if crime would just go away."

The boy sighed. "In an ideal world."

"Yep, in an ideal world. Sadly, this isn't an ideal world, and humanity - Kira included - is flawed. We make mistakes, and he punishes us for it." I chuckled humourlessly, making a point in saying, "I'm no religious fanatic, but even I know that so called Gods are able to _forgive_."

Raising my cup to my lips, I gave him time to debate my statement, personally picturing Light to be the philosophical sort of atheist, but all he did was stare. I broke the eye contact, feeling far more unnerved by the intensity of his eyes than I'd ever felt whilst under the detective's gaze, quietly admitting, "That's why I hate him and will always pursue him, no matter what."

The silence that followed hammered against my skull with the strength of a steam engine, and I only then realised how grim the atmosphere had become. God, I really hoped no one was listening in to this discussion...

I cleared my throat, hoping to dislodge whatever frog I'd swallowed. "Let's move on from this topic."

The other agreed, seeming to rake his brain for a new conversation topic, preferably - hopefully - one that was less depressing than my epic _Richard III_ monologue. Thankfully, this was Light I was talking to and not the antisocial husk I'd grown used to. Therefore, mere minutes later, the conversation was back in full swing.

"So," Light began. "I noticed before, you had an alias - the one you used at the entrance ceremony."

Slowly, I nodded my head, not really wanting to know where he was going with this.

"My father called you Agent. Initially, I thought that might've been a second alias, but it seemed strange to have two - like L. I can understand why he would need two, but you... you don't seem that special."

I felt myself blink once, and then again.

"No offence," he quickly added.

 _Fuck you_. "None taken."

"So, can I ask, is Agent your real name?"

I grimaced. "Kinda."

"Kinda?"

"In a sense, it's my alias because it's not my real name. But in another sense, it's not, because I don't have a real name at all."

Light frowned. "What do you mean?"

My shoulders shrugged of their own accord. "I was born without a name."

There was a cool, crisp sort of silence. I sat waiting, watching surprise blossom on Light Yagami's pretty face, and there Light sat, broodingly, mind engrossed in quiet calculations.

"Sorry, I'm confused," he said, knitting his brows together. "How can you be born without a name?"

I wanted to roll my eyes _so badly_. Light Yagami, ladies and gentlemen: Japan's Golden Boy with a mind of the highest calibre yet can't connect the fucking dots. Really, was it _that_ hard to imagine someone not having a name?

"When I said I was orphaned at birth, Light, I meant it literally. Apparently my mother wasn't the type of woman to wait around. She was up and gone the minute the cord was cut and I could breathe on my own. I wasn't even born in a hospital, for crying out loud, so it's not like I have any legal birth documents to validate my existence."

A sad smile pulled at my lips and I glanced down, seeing Light's face soften. He offered me a half hearted smile as a sign of comfort, most likely feeling that any other method of comfort would be all too personal and that would be awkward (yeah, as if things weren't _already_ awkward).

"I'm sorry."

I brushed it off, but smiled gratefully, before continuing my story. "Because of that circumstance, I was sent to an orphanage. The woman who was in charge wasn't the most affectionate caregiver so she didn't bother to name me either, and I was never adopted. I ran away when I was eight, living on my own until I was eleven when I was taken in by the association that raised me through my teenage years. By that point, I didn't require a name. I was too accustomed to living without one anyway. That's why I'm left nameless."

Light's reaction was priceless to say the least. If my insides weren't being torn apart by nostalgia, I probably would've laughed at his surprised face.

"So you're saying that you have no name whatsoever?"

"Precisely, and that's exactly why I'm on this case; Kira can't kill me. I'm immune, to put it simply."

"That's an odd stroke of luck. I suppose you don't have to worry then."

"Well, I _didn't_. Now, this second Kira has come about and I'm stuck in the same boat as everyone else." A sigh bubbled in my throat. "So annoying."

The conversation slammed into a dead end, and we both sipped our teas to break the awkwardness. Light was the first one to speak.

"So, where'd the name Agent come from then?"

_Well, isn't that the million dollar question._

"It's a funny story actually," I said, already starting to giggle at the memory. "Well, for the first few years at my new home, people would call me whatever they liked. Some of them would invent a name they thought suited me, and some just hurled insults at me; it differed. That lasted until I started working on my first official case. It was a small homicide investigation. Nothing too fancy. Still, it was my first case, and I was a bit nervous.

"I was due to talk to one of main suspect's relatives under the guise that I worked with the FBI. So, of course, as a fake federal agent, I'd introduce myself as 'agent _something_ '. I had everything planned out but, at the last minute, I panicked and forgot my alias, so I ended up only saying the word Agent like an idiot. Since then, it just sort of stuck."

"Don't you think it's slightly demeaning?" He asked.

I thought absolutely that for a brief second, but shook my head. "Not really. I suppose in its own special way, it's still my identifier. It's what I am and what I always will be."

"You seem pretty sure of that."

"Oh, I am. When I was nine, I had only a basic education - letters, numbers, and a poor understanding of manners. When I was taken in, I received my first official education. There, I pushed myself. I wanted to learn. I worked almost every hour of everyday. I didn't have weekends. I didn't slow down. I didn't stop. I pushed myself and that's why I am where I am now."

Yep. Here I was, sipping tea with a potential mass murderer who killed people like me. Life was good. So glad I made it this far.

"Besides, I was born to catch criminals. Crime is all I really know."

Light chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. "I suppose being involved in crime gives you an insight as what to look for."

"Exactly."

Bringing his lips away from the rim of his cup, he asked, "So, how long have you been working with L?"

"This is the first time I've worked with him." _Knowingly_ , at least. "I joined the investigation not long after Tailor died, which is how I discovered Kira in the first place, so it's been a few months. I haven't really been keeping count. Days like these just tend to blur into one." I paused to exhale. "It's tiring but it'll be worth it in the end."

The expression on Light's face softened, melting into concern. "Why would you cause yourself so much stress?" He asked. "You're young and have a life full of potential ahead of you. Why risk it on such a dangerous case?"

Once more, I had an urge to say the same to him (given he was a whole year younger than me and a full time university student), but kept my mouth glued shut, going with my default - and frankly, honest - answer.

"I was bored, and this looked exciting. It's not everyday you latch onto a case like this."

His laugh was like sleigh bells, ringing loud and clear across the cafe. "You can say that again."

I hummed and glanced at my watch out of habit, raising a brow as my brain made sense of the analog hands. We'd been here for over almost an hour and a half.

Draining the rest of my cup, I looked towards my coffee partner, gesturing to the time. "Should we head back now? It's getting late."

The boy glanced towards his own wrist and agreed, finishing his drink with one graceful swig and calling for the bill. After much insisting from both ends, I persuaded him to split the bill, and we went along our merry way.

Arriving back at L's hotel room, I reiterated back the day's events and the utter lack of evidence that we'd procured. He didn't seem too disappointed - probably because he had a huge stack of glazed doughnuts in front of him - but he notably wasn't too happy about it. In his _mildly distressed_ state, he failed to notice that his sugary stack of diabetes became one heart attack fewer as I walked past the table with doughnut in hand, smirking all the while.

Just as I was about to bite down on my stolen treat, a sharp ping from my phone alerted me to an incoming message. Laying the doughnut aside, I opened my texts, partly expecting it to be my favourite blonde (you know, the only person who _ever_ texted me) asking how my day went. Surprisingly, it wasn't. Even more surprisingly, it wasn't from anyone in my contacts.

The message consisted of a simple greeting and a smiley face emoticon. Frowning, I read the digits and faintly recognised it as the cell number one of Light's male associates had gifted me with that afternoon. Allowing the briefest of smiles to appear on my face, I sent back an affirming greeting. The conversation bounced back and forth from there, progressing from idle small talk to halfhearted compliments to considerably raunchy flirting.

I wasn't the type of girl to do something like that often often, but for once, I was enjoying that small moment of crazy teenage girl drama. It felt good to just take a breath, let it all go, and allow my brain to recline. Kira could take the backseat for a while; I had sweeter things to think about.

Another ping and my phone was in my hand instantly. This time, I noticed, the contents of the text were a little different. His response was short, but it conveyed the message behind it well enough. He'd tossed in a cute pet name, I noticed, and purposely placed a suggestive winky face emoticon at the end of his sentence. You wouldn't need to be a detective to figure out what he was implying.

I chewed on my lip, contemplating whether or not to text back.

He was cute, I supposed, in a boyish-nerdy-douchebag kind of way (a bit like Light in that sense, but nowhere near as attractive). His intentions, on the other hand... _not so cute_ , but still hugely flattering.

It was clear what he was after, and I didn't want to lead this poor guy on by faking interest. Then again, it had been a while since I'd had a lay, and God only knew when I'd land myself another opportunity like this. He was attractive, around my age, and seemed interested enough. Would a casual hookup be so wrong?

"Who are you talking to?"

Startled, I quickly hit the off button, looking up at my roommate with the innocence of an angel. "Nobody."

L knew better than to trust my cherubic facade and didn't seem very convinced by the juvenile it's nobody excuse (yes, I was vigorously kicking myself for not providing a better lie). The older man stared expectantly, waiting for his answer - taking a hefty bite out of _my_ doughnut, the bastard.

I swallowed my reluctance and glanced back down at my phone, unwilling to meet his domineering gaze. "It's just one of Light's friends. He invited a few of them to Aoyama today. One of them asked for my number. I was just trying to be nice, you know."

He nodded slowly. "Seems like a very stimulating conversation."

My head snapped up. _Oh fuck. He'd seen._

I stared hard at the detective, trying desperately to think of a mature and logical response to this, and trying even harder to keep the blood from rising to my skin and exposing my mortification.

As if sensing my embarrassment, he raised a hand, speaking with an irritating level of apathy. "Oh, don't mind me. Please continue."

Then, he toddled off back to his computer as though nothing had ever happened, turning his back just in time to miss my face lighting up like a Christmas tree. Except that Christmas tree was angry. And it was on fire.

Well okay, fine. If he was going to oblige me, then fine. _Fine_!

Still, as I stared at the mobile in my hand, fingers hovering over the screen, I couldn't bring myself to type, and I hated myself for it.

There was nothing wrong with me pursuing the boy's advancement. Nothing at all. We were both consenting adults with a mutual attraction for one another. That was it. Of course, I couldn't speak for my potential partner, but I had no desire to form anything serious with him. It'd be a momentary release of all the stress and sadness and frustration I'd been feeling recently. If anything, this was healthy. This was good for me.

Then why did it feel so _wrong_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The Trojan Horse was a large wooden horse said to have been built by the Greeks and presented to the citizens of Troy as a 'gift' during the Trojan War. What the Trojans weren't aware of was that the structure was actually hollow and contained a force of Greek soldiers, who later attacked the city. 'Twas subterfuge!!
> 
> * Shincha literally means new tea in Japanese since shincha leaves are picked at the very beginning of the harvest. I figured if Light was going to drink any kind of green tea, it would be shincha. After all, he is God of the New Tea ahahahaha (please end my suffering)
> 
> * The September Campaign was an event that took place in September 1939 during WW2 in which a force of (predominantly) German troops invaded Poland
> 
> I really wasn't sure whether to label this chapter Backstory Galore or LIGHThearted Puns as both are very relevant titles (that reminds me, another fun GWNoN drinking game: take a shot every time I use a Light-related pun; there shall be many so prepare for alcohol poisoning)
> 
> Anyway, I hoped you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I used up most of the recycled content from last chapter and thrust it into this one. Yes, I know there wasn't much going on between A and L - or even my poor baby Chris for that matter - but I really wanted Light and Agent to have some more interaction. This chapter very much belonged to them. 
> 
> (Ngl they have pretty good chemistry at the minute. If Light wasn't a narcissistic serial killer with a raging God complex and no concept of human emotion, I'd probably ship them)
> 
> Speaking of ships, Matsuda is the proud mother of the L/Agent ship and wants his babies to go forth and multiply. He knows what's up and he's calling them out on it #matsudaisnotacluelessidiot
> 
> [UNNEDITED come on, this is over 10,000 words cut me a little slack]


	13. Chapter Twelve

Whether he'd meant to or not, L had inadvertently - and very successfully - put me off having sex and I was not happy about it. Quite the opposite actually. I was angry, and I'm not just talking slightly pissy. No, I mean the full-on _don't talk to me - don't even look at me - or I might kill you_ type of angry. The rest of the task force kept their distance accordingly. Only Watari had the courage to approach me in my brooding state, but I think he knew I couldn't bring myself snap at him (I had way too much respect for the elderly man).

His protege, however... _oh yeah_ , him I could've slaughtered.

The murderous itch was only strengthened by L's insistence that I watch the Aoyama footage with him after the men retired for the night. All twenty-four hours. In one sitting. With no coffee.

He was poking the bear and he damn well knew it. Worser yet, he had the nerve to enjoy my suffering, watching my sanity drip from my tear ducts with every sleepless second. Needless to say, that evening, I wasted many hours thinking of ways to kill him and make his death look like a suicide.

The following day was far worse. I was expected to be prepped and raring to go to Shibuya that morning alongside my two male sidekicks, _Tweedledim_ and _Tweedledumb_ (as my agitated psyche had affectionately dubbed them). Instead, Dawn arose to welcome a very hostile teenage girl whose level of patience was about as unstable as an atomic bomb. The lack of sleep had sent my endocrine system into overdrive, and I was still unsure whether I wanted to cry or punch something.

In the end, I took to weeping into a recently defeathered pillow.

By the time Matsuda's car pulled up outside the hotel lobby, I had sobered somewhat, having chugged a cup of coffee à la Ryuzaki - pumped full of glucose and completed with a layer of sweet sugary sediment along the bottom. It was gross, but necessary if I wanted to actually process the day's events.

Unfortunately - or rather, fortunately, for the small amount of dignity I had left - Light's uni friends didn't join us that afternoon. And we still didn't find Kira.

The cycle repeated once more after I returned to the hotel that night, and as I watched the Shibuya footage in my weary, mind-boggled state, I concocted a great theory that Kira was actually an evil fairy of justice and we never stood a chance.

That theory was quickly debunked upon realisation that fairies of justice, evil or non, did not exist.

By mid-May, I was still drinking caffeine slush puppies and had somehow learned to tolerate the freaky texture (yes, much to my horror). So I sat, sipping my sludge, its scalding temperature mirroring the heat of my fury. The liquid nipped at the tip of my tongue and left behind a lingering sting which the sugar only served to irritate; I didn't let it bother me.

Upon their arrival, the police officers soon realised my mood hadn't brightened since the last time they saw me and promptly created the equivalent of No Man's Land between us, all choosing to sit at the opposite side of the room. Chris tried - bless him - to send me a thumbs up from across the way, but soon retracted his gesture when he received my very nasty death glare.

The detective, of course, was as chipper as a Boy's Scout, oblivious to the icy chill settling onto our current headquarters. Apparently the gloomy atmosphere did nothing to phase the man and he went about the day as he usually would - expressionlessly and with cake in hand.

However, as we all began to shiver through the umpteenth *winter of our discontent, three shrill beeps pierced the resounding silence, followed by the sound of Watari's voice.

" _Ryuzaki_ ," emitted from the monitor's speakers. We all glanced towards it. " _Apparently Sakura TV has just received another message from the second Kira_."

Even if I'd had the energy to gasp in shock, I wouldn't have done it. I was past feeling surprise when it came to faux Kira. Really, the guy just loved the limelight, didn't he? He'd already been on TV, what, three times now? That was more than the original Kira could say, and he was the one who'd started the whole fricken thing. _Diva_.

" _It was postmarked on the twenty third. I'll play it for you now_ ," the elderly man continued, before the sigil on the screen switched from W to KIRA, and I forced myself to count back from ten in three separate languages to silence the oncoming scream.

How now, my fellow men, what could our copycat have to say this time? Something clever for a change? Something spiteful? Something witty? Whatever it was, it had better give us a hint. I was sick of his ambiguous Shinigami bullshit and his stupid self-righteous rants and his ridiculous lack of--

" _I'm happy to say that I have found Kira_."

All hateful thoughts screeched to a halt.

I repeated the phrase in my head, and then once more for clarification, turning the words over and over until my brain could make sense of them. Outrage flooded through me like a malignant tumour and I very slowly turned my head to glare at the detective, my face a very malicious mix of irony, pride, and indignation. L purposefully avoided eye contact, and honestly, it was better that he did, because I was more than ready to pluck them from his sockets.

You know, I really hated to be the one to say ' _told you so_ ', but I fricken told him so. Seriously, the world's greatest detective could kiss my ass because I was right and he'd messed up - big time.

" _To all the people at the television station and the police department, I'd like to thank you very much_."

The screen flickered off and we sat, staring, in a tight silence. I broke it with a scoff, crossing my arms. "Snide bastard."

Like setting off a chain reaction, a tsunami of panicked exclamatives came from the team.

"Did he really find him?"

"This is a disaster."

" _We're all going to die_."

Mr Yagami cleared his throat, eyeing his colleagues reprimandingly. "Surely, this can only mean the two Kiras are cooperating."

L looked slightly disconcerted, but didn't allow it to stain his composure, instead saying, "At this point, I don't think we should jump to any conclusions. The second Kira is only saying that he found him; nothing more. He may not have made contact yet."

 _Yet_ , I thought bitterly. _He says that as though it's not a big deal. Does the idiot not realise how screwed we all are?_

"Now that it's come to this," he murmured. "We have no choice but to communicate directly to the second Kira through the police."

"You really think it's a good idea to send a message?" I heard Chris say.

L looked at the blonde and nodded. "I do. The police need to reach out to this copycat and offer him a deal. We should attempt to negotiate with him in the hopes he'll give us Kira's real name."

The group exchanged glances, all of which were met with unease and uncertainty. Clearly no one wanted to do this, but L, ever confident that his plan was foolproof, wouldn't be moved.

And so the message was aired. It was a vehement, insistent, in-your-face sort of message, drawing attention to Kira's own life in hopes he'll realise his moral duties as a human being and rat Kira in. Yeah, fat chance. The guy had already killed people, and had done so in the name of his God. I doubt a wishy-washy SOS message coming from the people he'd deemed to be the enemy would prompt his enlightenment.

In my opinion, it made us sound a bit desperate, and it should've been scripted differently. It made it seem as though we were bending over backwards to pander to this killer's needs despite the fact that, even if he did agree to cooperate (which I doubted he would), he didn't deserve it.

I didn't want to bend for this fucker, not after he made me watch a good man die.

Regardless, I let it happen, if only for the sake of the investigation, watching the evening broadcast through dejected eyes. I felt the detective lingering somewhere behind me.

L was shifting his weight from his toes to his heels and then back again, emitting the most horrendous cracking sound as his joints popped obscenely. I sat curled up on the couch, arms and legs folded defensively across my body, limbs locked and unmoving.

The dynamics between us had settled into an awkward hostility. Neither of us really had the patience or effort for an argument so the tension remained dormant. Dormant in the sense that Mount Vesuvius was dormant; one wrong move and boom: ultimate cataclysmic destruction. As such, we treaded lightly, avoiding any opportunity to interact for the better part of an hour.

However, when the plush seat dipped beside me and the sickly scent of marscapone wafted into my nose, my anger flared and the more outspoken side of me roared, demanding to be heard.

"I did warn you they'd find each other," I stated quietly.

He breathed in as though to sigh. "They haven't found each other yet."

" _Yet_. But they will. You really think the second Kira is going to sit back and relax now that he's found his idol? No, they're going to make contact, and then what?" I inhaled once, and then repeated, "I did tell you."

"You did."

"And you told me the chances of them meeting were unlikely, therefore implying that I was - oh, how should I word this - _mistaken_ in my way of thinking. Basically saying I was wrong, which I wasn't, by the way. I was dead on."

This time, the older man forwent speech, and merely nodded. I waited, rage prickling the ends of my fingertips, urging me to pummel that stupid face of his until I felt his skull crumble and cave. It was a tempting thought, but I withheld the urge. Patience was a virtue after all.

Seeing as I wasn't the most virtuous of women, however, I pushed - partly because I felt I was entitled to an apology, and partly to see just how much guilt I could scrape from his soulless interior.

"Don't you think I deserve something, Ryuzaki?"

L instantly bristled, apparently not liking the implication in my tone. "I will not apologise for making an informed decision."

"An ignorant decision, more like."

The man frowned. "I didn't completely reject your theory."

"Are you kidding? You shot it out of the sky!"

"I heard you out."

"Oh wow. Lucky me."

Seeing that my sarcasm did nothing to aid the situation, I sighed hatedly and crossed the room, peeling back the curtains to stare at the street below.

I could feel his eyes watching me and I tried not to think about those dark, colourless orbs boring into my back. It was easier said than done, and my body's insistence on reminding me that ' _someone is looking at you_ ' really wasn't helping. That familiar fleck of electricity pulsed along my spine, tickling each individual vertebrae and making it excruciatingly impossible to ignore the other's presence.

Desperately, I kept glancing towards the door through the window's reflection, hoping that Watari or Chris or even a fucking hitman would walk through, just to give me an excuse to divert my attention from the rampant elephant that had metaphorically trashed the hotel room.  

"Are you planning on stargazing all evening?"

Well, it's arguably better than looking at your face, for sure.

Standing my ground, I refused to give the detective a definitive answer. "I might do. Why?"

"There are far more productive ways to spend your time," he rebuked, clearly hinting towards the unfinished notes I'd left on my desktop.

I hummed dismissively. "I actually think it's quite nice to stargaze. But, of course, if _you_ disagree with it, that must mean it's _wrong_ and I do beg your pardon."

If it were possible for L to look any more unimpressed, he would've actually turned into my old chemistry teacher.

I had to give it to him though: he handled agitation extremely well. By this point, I definitely would've thrown a punch... or maybe two. I guess that really was the difference between me and him.

"You're being childish," he said blandly.

"And you're being an ass," I threw back, adding a testy glare for good measure. "Don't act so sanctimonious."

Alas, the room fell silent once more.

We kept the act up for longer this time - three minutes, I counted - our stiff bodies leaking tension into the atmosphere like toxic waste. Eventually though, my nemesis caved - as I knew he would. If there's one thing that L couldn't stand, it was being criticised (well, that and going a day without sugar, but I didn't have enough leverage in that respect).

"Although I do not regret my actions," he began, keeping a firm grasp on his fragile masculine pride. "I will admit that it was wrong of me to dismiss your suggestion. I was confident that the first Kira would not appear in public and that the chances of any interaction between the two were close to nonexistent. I was wrong to assume that."

It took an extreme amount of self-control not to smile at what I knew was coming next and, biting back a smug smirk, I let the man gather the strength to actually say it.

After a few seconds, the detective sighed, likely a last farewell to his dignity, and briskly declared, "You were right, it seemed, and I will be sure to value your input more in the future."

There it is. There's the cherry on the cake. I almost wish I had a camcorder. The look on his face had to be worth millions.

"Oh. What's this I hear?" I sang, holding my hand against my ear. "Is that Ryuzaki saying he's _sorry_?"

The man looked more than ready to murder me.

"It _is_ Ryuzaki saying he's sorry!" I gasped for effect, looking him up and down and smiling in what could only be described as a stellar performance. "Wow, wonders will never cease."

The look I received could've melted iron. Oh yeah. He was definitely going to kill me, ram me through the glass and watch me plummet. Was it worth it? _Abso-fucking-lutely._

I sighed wistfully, sliding the curtains shut and blocking out all natural light. The area was illuminated solely by L's monitor now, making the insomniac's skin seem somehow paler, almost ghostly against the room's sombre backdrop. Slinking against the wall, I was submerged in shadow, but I doubt the detective missed the sadistic grin that stretched across my lips.

"Man, I love being right. Your sad little face gives me nothing but joy."

"If that's the case, maybe I should be holding you under suspicion for being Kira."

He was teasing me now. He was being playful. And I found it funny. Didn't I hate his guts five minutes ago?

Regardless, I played the part, sticking to the shadows and reclining back against the wall, lowering my voice an octave to better suit the heinously evil villain trope. "If I were Kira, you wouldn't catch me, detective. You'd never take me alive."

"Are you so sure?"

" _Very_."

He dragged a thumb against his lips, contemplating. "Perhaps I should detain you then, just to be safe."

At that, I held out my arms, presenting him with two compliant wrists, a sort of impish grin twisting my features. "Go on then. I'm waiting."

There was a pause.

"Do not tempt me, Agent."

The line threw me a little bit, but he'd said it in a way that was so oddly serious and so assertive that I couldn't help but snort as I plopped myself down in the space next to him. "You're funny, Ryuzaki."

The man merely looked at me, dark eyes blending with the shadows beneath. He took a breath, as though preparing to reply, and held it in his throat. My amusement faded into an uneasy curiousity and I stared back, waiting, wanting to hear what it was he had to say. Inevitably though, L said nothing and turned back to his computer with a solemn gaze.

We didn't talk after that.

* * *

Coffee was the ambrosia of mortal men and that much was _fact_. Nothing felt better than to sit down with a warm mug clasped between your hands, fingers tingling at the sensation, and inhale those rich caffeinated fumes. It truly was the elixir of life.

When that elixir started to resemble a peat bog, however, the godlike aesthetic of it faltered slightly.

I'd been somehow coerced into making the detective a cup of coffee à la Ryuzaki since he was apparently ' _unable to grasp how the coffee machine functions_ '. It was completely BS of course - it didn't take a genius to fill a jug and press a button - but I agreed anyway, mostly because he'd been so nice to me the other night and I felt the robot deserved some recognition for that.

Still, as I stared down at the coagulated clumps of brown slush, I stopped to wonder how the hell the detective hadn't died of heart failure yet.

I hadn't bothered to count the amount of spoonfuls I dumped into the coffee, but I had a feeling the coffee to sugar ratio would be grossly unbalanced. Disgusted by the sight, I started whisking the sludge a little _too_ aggressively in a vain attempt to get the granules to dissolve.

It didn't work.

Distantly, I could hear the other men arriving, but didn't bother to greet them, even as Chris wandered into my line of vision. The man sidled up beside me just as I gave up with my impossible task, blonde bangs falling across his eyes as he leaned over the counter. "Morning sunshine."

I acknowledged him with a hum, and he promptly frowned.

"Why'd you look so down in the dumps?" He asked, and then made a face of realisation, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. "Is it bleeding season?"

I looked up at him with the same expression I regarded L's coffee with. "No. You know I don't get those."

"Then what's up?"

"First of all, _this_ monstrosity," I said, scowling down at my hellish creation. "And second of all," I paused, gesturing to the TV with a tilt of my head. "We've got a reply."

"From the second Kira?"

I rolled my eyes, dropping the spoon with a loud clang. "No, from the Pope."

The older man raised a brow but didn't retort. Instead, he simply stated, "He won't agree to cooperate."

"Of course he won't," I agreed, pushing myself away from the counter and shrugging his hand off in the process.

"Ye of little faith," came from across the room.

L was sat before the TV, and sat before L was an abundance of various sugared pastries that the detective had all but begged me to purchase. Usually, I wouldn't make the effort to go shopping unless I was getting something out of it as well, but the man could be as annoying as a four year old when he wanted to be. I could only go so long before his threats of deductive failure and excessive pestering got to me. It was a very angry drive across town.

I was turning into the next Watari and I didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing. 

"Oh shush," I hissed, thrusting the coffee in his face. "You know he won't agree either. Why even bother pretending this will be good news?"

"He may still help us," L argued. "Any footage sent to us from this fool is helpful whether he intends it to be or not. He appears to have no filter on his speech, and it's painfully easy to decipher the true meaning behind his euphemistic comments."

"Except Shinigami?" I teased, but the detective didn't respond.

A sudden knock resounded then, and the door slid open. "Hello," came Light's dulcet tone as he stepped into the room.

"Oh, come in, Light. Your timing couldn't be better actually," L praised, seemingly in a much more pleasant mood than he was five seconds ago. "We just received another video response from the second Kira."

The boy raised his brows. "That didn't take long."

"Indeed. I believe it may be the last one."

I took a seat in the back as the television switched on, once again bearing Kira's signature title, the airy buzz of extraneous noise - breath and ruffling fabrics - flowing from the speakers.

" _I've decided to stop searching for Kira. I'd also like to thank the police department for their advice. However, I still plan to help Kira in his mission and I hope that, in time, he'll come to see me as an ally_."

Chris leaned in to whisper, "Big shocker, huh?" and I nodded glumly.

" _I will start by punishing criminals who Kira has yet to judge. Also I will be willing to share my powers with those who I deem are worthy and will encourage them to do the same. Together, we'll make this world a better place_."

The screen switched off.

"What a load of bull," I sighed, sinking into a pathetic slouch.

"After watching this," the detective announced. "I can only think that Kira and the second Kira have managed to make contact."

The urge to gloat was once again strong, and the urge to yell in frustration was even stronger. Still, I'd had my moment; it was fun and it had past. I wasn't going to rub it in the detective's face that I'd been right all along and he should always listen to me. I was more mature than that.

Goddammit, I was still right though.

"What makes you say that, Ryuzaki?" Light asked, pretty dumb question in my opinion (and he wondered why I'd dubbed him Tweedledim).

"Oh, come on," the other complained. "Didn't you sense it?"

When the younger boy remained silent - a blatant no - L continued. "Firstly, consider how determined he was to meet the original Kira. Why the sudden change of heart? Secondly, he now wants to punish criminals that Kira hasn't? All he wants is for Kira to see him as an ally?

"It begs the question - why didn't he do this to begin with? My guess is that it's because he'd never thought that far ahead. He probably met Kira and was told which criminals he'd be allowed to judge." He paused for dramatic effect, raising an authoritative finger. "I believe the purpose of this message is to hide the fact they've met."

Light shook his head, auburn bangs obscuring his eyes. "It's unlike Kira to be so careless."

"That's true. Still, are we meant to assume Kira made a mistake or is this his way of letting us know they've made contact? It would be a very effective method to provoke us. The idea of their union is very threatening."

I crossed my arms somewhat sulkily. _Yeah, thanks egghead. Thanks for reminding us._

"However, in slightly better news, this is one less reason to suspect that Light is Kira."

Mr Yagami's face instantly melted into a teary-eyed expression of disbelief and hope. An A-list performer couldn't have produced a more genuine look of shock if they tried. It was heartwarming.

"If Light was Kira, I don't believe this is the type of message he'd have the second Kira send us; it doesn't fit." He picked up a single doughnut, eyeing it critically. "Light is smarter than that."

The boy's eyes sparkled with demure pride.

"He would've made the second Kira go through with the plan of having me appear on TV, deny ever making contact, and thus make the second Kira shoulder the blame for my death." The detective took a bite, licking the icing from his fingers. "Flawless plan really."

And then the happy eyes hardened. I snorted.

I had to cut the guy some slack though. It must be hard to hear that your colleague not only thinks of you as a serial killer, but also a backstabbing manipulator. At least he'd complimented him first.

Much like the iron chains that would soon bind the hands of our murderous tyrant, the ties of friendship within the Kira task force truly were unbreakable.

* * *

Pathetic as it may seem, I genuinely could've cried when L woke me up the next morning, his cold hands shaking me to a confused state of consciousness. It wasn't due to any sleep deprivation or sudden onslaught of sadness and despair, but rather a sealed plastic wallet sent from the mighty heavens.

When I realised what it was - and, more importantly, what it meant - I felt an impulse to get down on my knees and scream hallelujah because for the first time ever in this investigation we'd actually gotten definitive physical evidence. It was a good feeling. Indescribably good. _Three beers into a night out_ level of good.

Needless to say, I was up and dressed within minutes and practically danced my way into the main room.

Sadly, both Chris and Watari were missing out on the excitement since Chris had offered to take the elderly man on his latest desert run after he'd complained of back pain (I had outright refused to go again. L's deductive abilities would shrivel into non-existence before I mustered up the energy to repeat that drive). Alone without my fellow American, I'd chosen to recline beside Matsuda - who, even though his body became rigid and he actively changed his breathing pattern, didn't seem to mind - tapping a rhythm against my thigh.

It was exhilarating in a sense, knowing that Kira's DNA was sitting mere feet away from me in an airtight bag. Though, it was painful to wait, especially since L kept making really tedious observations such as 'crumbs' and 'hair' with no elaboration. But even as we sat there, bored and impatient, we felt contented as we knew this meant something; that we were finally getting somewhere.

"Mr Yagami," L announced, and the older man looked up expectantly. "If I die within the next few days, your son is Kira."

My hand stopped tapping and my head snapped up in a way that almost gave me whiplash.

 _Oh no._ He was doing so well.

"What did you just say, Ryuzaki?" The other yelled, voice resonating, low and thunderous, across the small space shared between us.

L dodged the question, acting as though the Chief had never even spoken. "If anything happens to me, I've asked Watari to make himself available to you. I'm counting on you, team."

"You said he was almost cleared, and now this?"

I wetted my lips before chiming in. "Chief, all due respect, this doesn't mean--"

"Agent, whilst I value your attempts to gloss over Ryuzaki's statements, I simply can't ignore what he is saying." My resolve shrivelled, and the man turned back to the dark haired detective, voice calm but eyes ablaze. "Ryuzaki, be honest, how much do you suspect my son?"

"The truth is: I don't even know what to think anymore," the other admitted, head drooping downwards. "I've never been in a situation like this. If both Kiras are working together right now, then things are not looking good for me. Taking that into consideration, it is possible I may not be thinking as clearly as I usually do. Perhaps I only consider Light a suspect because we have nobody else." He then snapped back to his usual steely self. "Even so, if I do happen to die anytime soon, please assume your son is Kira."

The tension that followed made the Cold War look like a cowboy standoff.

Seemingly done with examining the samples, L sat back. "Aizawa, could you please refer these to forensics and have them analyse the DNA?"

Said police officer did as requested, his face stony as he left the room, leaving behind his disgruntled comrades. The police officers had banded together, grumbling in hushed tones to one another, spouting nasty comments, and genuinely looking as though they were all planning mutiny. We were all very aware L's bedside manner needed some improvement, but honestly, seeing how he lived day and night was enough to understand the reason behind (and arguably justify) his apathy.

Before I'd popped out of the blue and utilized my fabulous sad puppy impression in return for some good food and shelter, L had held the record for biggest loner to ever exist. He'd sit alone in his dark man-cave with only Watari to speak to and a monitor to interact with. As far as I was aware, he'd lived that way since childhood. Now, I was no therapist, but even I knew constant isolation wasn't the greatest way to boost a kid's communication skills.

It was the same with animals really. If you didn't acquaint your pup to other members of their furry species, you'd get a handful of behavioural issues.

Unsocialised dogs snapped and growled. Unsocialised detectives were just assholes.

When you thought about it that way, it seemed L had been set up for social disaster from the very beginning.

Still I refused to let this be his *hamartia. Empathy was not a hard skill to master, even for a first-timer. Besides, he'd been nice to me before. Who's to say he couldn't do it again?

A flurry of determination drove my feet forward and before I had the chance to tell which limb to do what, my arms were crossed and I was glowering down at the crouched detective, looking every bit the picture of a stern headmistress (just minus the abundance of wrinkles and menopausal flushing).

"Ryuzaki," I said firmly. "We've talked about this."

The older man glanced at me boredly and slowly raised his coffee mug to his lips. "I don't recall."

My hand moved before I could stop it. With a movement that almost drenched the carpet in thick slushy caffeine, L received a harsh, audible whack across the shoulder (yeah, the shoulder did seem a bit lame, but apparently my subconscious knew that bitch-slapping my superior across the _face_ \- besties or not - would not end well for me).

The rustle of movement and disquieted murmur behind me told me the officers had noticed the blatant abuse but either had the good sense not to mess with a vengeful woman or they simply didn't care. Given the circumstances, I was leaning towards the latter.

"Come on, man!" I practically hissed. "Have some sensitivity, for the love of God! How would you feel if you were him?"

"I don't have a son. I can't empathise."

Why was he so difficult?

"Someone close to you then. Watari, even."

Honestly, the thought of Watari murdering thousands of civilians was both humourous and terrifying. The old man, despite having the temperament of a kind and doting grandfather, did still seem like the type of guy who would sprinkle *ricin in your food and walk away smiling.

The awkward squint and cock of the head suggested L felt the same. "Yes, that would be quite discomforting," he murmured.

"Precisely what I'm saying. Listen," I whispered, attempting a gentler approach, perching myself on the chair's arm. "I'm telling you this - as your friend - to try and help you out. You need to be more understanding. There's a reason why they stabbed Caeser, you know."

The other blinked owlishly. "Are you suggesting my team are going to stage a coup to murder me?"

_Obviously, yes, and Light Yagami would be leading it._

"Not at all, mighty Caeser. I think that would be pretty counterproductive actually, all things considered. No, I'm just trying to point out that even the greatest leaders can be hated, and right now, you're not exactly the Chief's best buddy.

"Don't forget: even though you're in charge here, he's still the alpha male in the eyes of our Japanese associates. Get him on your bad side and the whole pack turns feral. Look at them! Even Matsuda doesn't like you right now, and Matsuda likes everyone.

"So," I concluded. "Just try to understand that your team has feelings. They're way more likely to trust what you say - and actually appreciate you as a fellow human being - if you show them the smallest amount of empathy."

L opened his mouth - assumedly to argue that no, I am wrong and he is lovely - and I just raised my hand. "Telling them their children might be killers as breezily as you might talk about the weather is not the way to do it. I don't care how shady said children are."

"Ironic choice of words," he commented as the phone in my pocket began to thrum. "Especially since said child is named Light."

God. That one wasn't even intentional.

I smothered my laugh but didn't stop the knowing smile appearing on my face as I slid my vibrating device from my jeans. "Hello?"

" _Agent_." The smooth Japanese that followed through told me it wasn't Chris.

"Aizawa, hey. What's up?"

" _The results just came back._ "

My breath hitched. "And?"

The officer's words were terse; stilted. He reiterated to me all that he'd been told, giving me a long awaited name and a current home address. I gestured wildly for a pen - Matsuda delivered - and scribbled both down on the palm of my hand. The detective practically lunged for my hand the moment it was free, the force of it nearly throwing me off the chair, and then turned to the laptop to mash his fingers across the keys. After double checking the details and giving Aizawa a polite sign-off, I thanked him and hung up.

The men sitting across the room looked to me expectantly, too far away to have overheard the call and not close enough to read the hastily scribbled kanji on my hand. Feeling much like a holy prophet, I straightened myself and stood.

"Well, gentlemen. It's time to revise our choice of pronouns. Turns out God is a woman."

* * *

The evening saw me sitting crosslegged on a bed scattered with documents, sheets curled around my ankles, earphones jammed into my skull, and a shiny copy of Eighteen magazine bundled on my lap. It wasn't my typical Friday night, being surrounded by papers and glossy tabloids, but it was a necessity.

I flicked through the fashion magazine, which had been graciously bestowed upon me by the detective (I didn't bother to question _why_ he had it in the first place), trying to pinpoint any useful information amongst the obnoxious mind-numbing garbage that cluttered the pages. I stopped skimming when my eyes identified a rather interesting passage. Just as I'd began to bury my nose into it, an arm slung around my shoulders, jolting me back to consciousness.

Tugging my earphones out, I twisted to see my favourite American Idiot sitting beside me, having apparently snuck through the bedroom door unnoticed. I raised my brows expectantly, and the man pulled out his wallet.

"Wanna go out for a round of soda and virgin cocktails?" He asked, cheekily adding, "It's on me."

I laughed and glanced at my watch, seeing it was only half ten. Why not, I figured. It made a change from coffee.

"Sure, just give me a minute to pack all this up," I said, standing, shuffling the papers into a somewhat orderly pile. "Got a place in mind?"

"Well, I saw this place is Roppongi which looked-- Is that a fashion magazine?" He looked to me with horror in his eyes. "My God, Agent, what did he do to you?"

"I'm trying to find something."

"Trying to find what? Victoria's Secret?"

"Our faux killer," I explained hastily, grabbing him by the arm and wheeling him away before he could ask anymore questions. "Come on, let's go. You promised me a drink."

* * *

The bar Chris had chosen was pretty ideal. Not too loud. Not too dark. The music was in good taste, and the other patrons kept to themselves. We got our drinks from the counter and settled into a nearby booth. Taking a long sip from my glass, I pulled out the magazine from my bag and promptly picked up where I'd left off.

"So, tell me," Chris started. "Who's the killer that's obscured themself in the March issue of Eighteen?"

Hesitant, I gave the room a quick scan, lowering my voice to a level that was still loud enough to be heard over the music but not likely to draw attention. I wasn't risking behind overheard right now, especially not when faux Kira was essentially the Britney Spears of Japan and had a huge teenage following. Her rabid fans could be anywhere.

"Well, according to the guys at the NPA, it's a Miss. Misa Amane. We still need to check her apartment for solid conviction but it's almost definitely her who sent the tapes."

He frowned, raising his head in thought. "Misa Amane. Isn't she that model?"

I chuckled, turning to an appropriate page. "You'd know, wouldn't you? Yeah, she is, hence the magazine."

With an aggressive tug, I tore out the page and tossed it his way. Laying face up was a picture of an attractive blonde woman, draped elegantly in colourful fabrics that traced her curves and pinched her skin just right. With smooth porcelain cheeks, long lashes, and luscious lips, she was the the perfect depiction of Asian beauty.

Smiley. Shiny. Our latest suspect. The second Kira.

Yeah, something didn't quite add up there.

"Really? _She's_ the fake?" He shook his head, lip curling as though he'd tasted something bitter. "Nah, I don't believe that."

"She has to be," I insisted. "There's physical evidence of her involvement. Given, it doesn't necessarily mean she's Kira, but it's likely. Why else would her DNA be slathered all over our evidence?"

"True. How'd forensics identify her DNA so quickly anyway?" He wriggled his brows, trying to be humorous. "Drug scandal perhaps? Did another model happen to _disappear_?"

"Surprisingly no. Kira shenanigans aside, Misa Amane's a good girl." I softened my tone before continuing. "Her parents were murdered last spring. Naturally, they took a sample from Amane and were pretty quick to conclude she wasn't involved. It must've still been recorded on the system."

Chris huffed out a sigh, clearly not expecting that response. "Damn, poor babe. That sucks."

"Too true," I said with a shake of my head. "It almost makes me feel bad for her but, you know, she's killing people. Tragic backstories don't justify homicidal behaviour."

That squeezed another dry laugh from Chris before he fell silent.

"Agent," he muttered, suddenly sounding way too serious in comparison to how he was five seconds ago. "I don't know whether it'd be best to say any of this to Ryuzaki, but I think Mogi mentioned something about a blonde chick tackling Light the other day."

I frowned. Well, there you go. It seemed Takada was right to feel cautious around me. Pretty Boy was a player. An ambitious player, at that. And with a hugely dubious agenda too.

From what I'd already learned, Misa Amane didn't seem like the type of person Light would date - or even tolerate. The pair were polar opposites in the worst possible way. She was a bubbly fashion-centric supermodel, and he was a stern no-nonsense child prodigy. It just didn't fit.

There was still a chance of it being nothing more than an estranged romance - after all, who was I to judge Light's taste in women? Maybe he just liked them blonde. Or maybe it was all a ploy for Light to rake in more popularity points across the playground (not that Light needed it, mind). Still, those chances were slim, and everyone knew it. That left only one explanation.

"It's all adding up now, isn't it?" I said quietly, eyes skimming the delicate curve of Amane's lips stretching into an almost angelic smile. "Mention it to him. We may just be adding fuel to the fire, but hey, it's for the greater good at the end of the day. Let his vendetta permeate."

He nodded, and we sipped our drinks in morose silence, the only noise coming from the blaring speakers and the low murmur of unintelligible conversation. After a while, Chris sighed and sat back against the plush leather.

"This might be all over soon," he murmured.

"I know."

"Will you miss it?"

Earnestly, and with a giggle, I replied, "I won't miss the long hours or Kira's prophetic rants - seriously, it's like sitting through Sunday Mass all over again - but I'll miss the people."

"Even Matsuda?"

" _Especially_ Matsuda," I cried, earning myself a dubious look from my companion. "Oh, don't give me that look. You'll miss him too, admit it! Optimists are hard to find nowadays. It's refreshing to see someone so incessantly positive. He's a little ray of sunshine in our dark, dark world."

We shared a laugh, one that genuinely brought soppy tears to my eyes. It was pathetic, undeniably, and I wiped them away with an aggressive swipe, only to sigh afterwards.

"Look at us," I said quietly. "Getting all nostalgic over something that's not even past. We don't even know if this lead with Amane will go anywhere. There's still a chance it might not be her. And we still have to find the first Kira."

"Regardless," Chris said, taking another swig from his glass. "When we are finished here, I might settle down."

If it weren't for the solemn, oddly nostalgic, look in his eyes, I might've thought he was yanking my chain. ' _Chris_ ' and ' _settling_ _down_ ' melded together so strangely.

"What do you mean?"

"No more travelling or wild partying. Just work." He added quietly, "It helps keeps my mind off things, I've noticed."

I nodded in understanding. "That's honourable."

Chris smothered a laugh. "It is, isn't it? Doesn't sound a lot like me, but I'm gonna try. Who knows? Maybe I'll find a wife along the way, make some kids, and we'll all play cards on a Saturday night."

I sent him a funny look, trying so earnestly to picture Chris working your _run-of-the-mill, nine to five_ job and coming home to play cards - of all things - with his family.

God, even picturing him with a family felt alien.

The blonde was quick to justify himself with a half-assed shrug. "What can I say, this case has given me a weird appreciation for life. Not to mention, I feel like an elderly. The stress alone has taken about ten years off my life."

He could say that again. Between Kira's anarchistic cult members and L's constant heckling, I'd sprouted about fifty grey hairs and felt more than ready to move to the Canaries and start a banana farm.

"Yeah, I get what you mean. So, what, it's time to start the search for Mrs Right?"

My friend looked down, almost sheepishly. "It just might be."

A genuine smile crossing my features, I paused to imagine my friend standing beside a woman in white - both dressed to the nines, faces alight with happiness - and briefly wondered whether he'd pick me to be his Best Man. Then, trying not to show how excited that thought made me, I leaned forward and patted his hand. "Good luck to you, my man. I hope she's lovely."

Chris nodded his head in thanks. "What about you, A? What's your next move?"

My lips extended into an awkward pucker. "I don't know. Maybe I'll take a gap year."

The older man laughed. "What do you mean? Every year is your gap year," he argued. "You're never not travelling."

"Hey, no. I'm still on-call, so technically, it doesn't count. Nah, I'll take a proper gap year. No cases. No Jason. No Kira, in particular. Just me exploring all that the world has to offer." I took another swig of my drink before reminding him, "We never got around to seeing all of Asia, you know."

"What about Ryuzaki?"

I nursed my glass close to my lips, head bowed, brows raised in question. "What about him?"

Chris stared at me like I had three heads. "You're seriously telling me you're gonna leave this case and shut the doors behind you? No keeping contact? No strings attached?" He crossed his fingers, wagging them in my face. "You two are like _this_ now."

I mimicked his action, albeit mockingly. "We are not like _this_. We're friends, sure, but I doubt he'd want to see me after this is all over."

My friend just didn't look convinced.

"Besides, he's L. When is he not working? He wouldn't have time to entertain a bored teenager, Chris."

"Who knows?" The blonde protested. "Maybe he'll want you along for the ride. You could solve cases together - an unstoppable duo." He paused to chuckle. "Imagine that. You and L versus the world."

At that, I laughed. I laughed because Chris had meant it as a joke and me teaming up with L would never happen in this life or the next. Still, as the laughter died down and I ordered another drink, a small part of me found myself thinking perhaps I wouldn't mind that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * "Now is the winter of our discontent" is a famous quote from the monologue in Shakespeare's Richard III  
> * Hamartia is a term often used in classic literature to refer to a character's fatal flaw  
> * Ricin is an incredibly toxic poison which can be very hard to detect if people don't know what they're looking for. My teacher told me - in a worrying amount of detail - how ricin worked and how it kills you
> 
> Did somebody say unresolved sexual tension? Why, that's my middle name. And look at Agent trying to deny liking L. My edgy baby is so naive. 
> 
> Yes, I omitted the scene with yOUrE thE fiRSt fRiEND I eVEr hAd because honestly fuck Light. He deserves nothing from L but a good slap (side note: I'm going to have so much fun writing their brawling scenes. I'm already excited). This chapter was shorter than usual (no over 9000 meme today; it was only 7,800 sadly) but, as promised, Chris is back and I actually gave him some important scenes wow~ and L/Agent had some questionable interactions so that's all good. 
> 
> Anyway thank you so much for all the lovely reviews; I love to hear your guys' thoughts. The next chapter should be up soon, and whilst I don't want to spoil anything, let me tell you, it's gonna be wild. I'm gonna be turning the romance up a notch ;)


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